I mean, yes really. I'm about to become an auntie (like, today) and the sun is shining and the grass is green and there was a hummingbird outside my bedroom window, all pretty and a-fluttering and did I mention I'm about to become an AUNTIE? and I've broken through the weight loss plateau and life is grand lalalalalaaaaaa.
But I'm also high on ... cold medicine.
I woke up a few days ago feeling junky. This happens sometimes. I thought "Oh, allergies, whatevs" and went about my business with verve and enthusiasm because, again, high on life. How high, you ask? Bought a BATHING SUIT. Did not go into the tailspin of depression and angst but instead thought, "Damn, I'm fabulous" (It helped that I had to buy one two sizes smaller than the one I have in my closet. Score) and then went out to dinner and ate creme brulee with impunity and guiltless pleasure.
High on life. But sniffly snuffly sneezy.
It kept getting worse and finally yesterday I thought, "If this is allergies? Maybe someone could just SHOOT ME."
Not allergies. It's a cold. A kick me in the ass, knock me to the ground, point at me and laugh freaking COLD.
So this morning, when I cracked open one bleary eye, I thought, maybe ... drugs. Drugs would be good here.
I don't usually take the cold medicine because it makes me a little ... what's the word. Stupid. Yeah, there it is. Stupid and high.
How high, do you ask?
Let's take the coffee as an example. I just thought, "I should make myself a coffee." Went into the kitchen to discover -- I already DID make coffee. And then forgot about it. Because -- hello, I'm high.
I have started the same email three times. Three. Times. (It just took me four tries to type "three". It wanted to be "threeees". "Threeees times!" Seriously?)
I can breathe, though. My sinuses have stopped draining in a most unpleasant manner. My throat, though scratchy like sandpaper, doesn't hurt. And though I still sound weird, it's more Demi Moore and less Joan Rivers which, honestly, is a happy trade off. Even if I have gone to replace the toilet paper roll (that I already replaced) twice because I forgot that I already did it. Even if my to do list looks like it was scrawled by a seven year old with aspirations of becoming Jackson Pollack. (Again with the typing. My fingers want him to be Jackson Plllck. Which is funny to me because it seems Welsh what with the vowels missing. Maybe he's Pollack's lesser known cousin, the Welsh artist Jackson Plllck... it's tangents like these that cause the whole I should make coffee oh hahaha I already did, there it is! Like magic! Like 15 minutes ago me was planning a surprise for right now me! Oh, 15 minutes ago me -- you're the nicest!)
I could put my head on my desk and go to sleep right now.
High on life? You betcha.
High on OTC Cold Medicine? Oh honey, you have NO idea.