I woke up Saturday morning with one plugged nostril.
Because I partied hard the night before at #azbloggermeetup (recap to come!), I had somewhat of a caffeine hangover from that one time when I decided to drink a bunch of Dr. Pepper at the END of the night to fight party-planning exhaustion as the evening waxed late, thus causing me to stay up until 2am with stimulating substances racing through my veins. (In retrospect, the Dr. Pepper was not my brightest idea.)
But I had big plans for my Saturday!
After brunch with friends, there were errands to be run! Groceries to be bought! A room to be cleaned! A car to also be cleaned! You see, with all the aforementioned party planning, the situation was beginning to become borderline please-don't-submit-me-for-an-episode-of-Hoarders in my living space.
The germs had another agenda.
The plugged nostril soon became a congested face, and that congested face soon became plugged ears, which all gave way to tender throat glands and a congested chest. Then this Facebook status happened:
But I didn't rest for long.
Determined to be productive on my day off, I did manage to buy groceries. (And if shopping in teal sweat pants with the upper half of my body leaning heavily on the cart for support is wrong, I don't want to be right.) I then decided to pray that I could clean my room because praying is what I do when I'm at a loss for what else to do. But when I ultimately resorted to lying on my bedroom floor while trying to clean at the same time, I finally surrendered.
A hot bath is exactly what I needed.
I headed downstairs, because downstairs has a bigger tub and the bigger tub is necessary in times like these. It all started going downhill when I attempted to move the shower curtain out of the way...and the metal curtain rod and all its attachments leapt from its perch and clocked me square in the head.
The curtain rod tried to bludgeon me to death.
Things all became very quiet for a second and then my eyes started to leak. I sat down on the floor and cried for approximately 1 minute about being sick, the bump on my head and not knowing what to wear on my first episode of Hoarders. Fortunately, the crying quickly gave way to a particular flavor of laughcrying as the image of the shower rod judo chopping me from above formed in my mind.
And then, I finally got my hot bath.
Other than one miiiinor mishap with freezing water assaulting me unexpectedly from the shower head, I have to say it went quite well. I even watched a whole episode of The West Wing, in which a character struggled with post-traumatic stress disorder and I eyed the nefarious shower curtain on the floor and said, "Preach it, West Wing!"
Also, the laughcrying had, in fact, cleared my one plugged nostril and I breathed normally for the first time all day.
The moral of this story is yet unclear.
Happy Saturday one and all, and to all a lovely night of Nyquil-laced dreams like mine will surely be. And this is all further evidence that crazy things happen to me when I am sickly, like unto here and here.