What leads to the perfect morning? More than you'd think.
About a month or so ago, I started to have a low-grade case of the sniffles. This took place mostly at night, particularly when trying to sleep, so I suspected I had some hidden stores of dust in the bedroom. I got as far as moving the bed and vacuuming behind that, and I had every intention of moving the rest of the furniture and cleaning behind that...but I got (what a surprise!) both busy and lazy.
Yesterday, in the morning, the sniffles were a bit worse. I had my great role-playing experiment in the afternoon, and I did get through that, but afterwards, I started to feel increasingly horrible. By the time dinner came around, I was going through a centimeter or so of tissues per hour. I began to suspect that, as a girl I knew in high school claimed, that my nose was really leaking out of my skull...and it was all slimy and gross. This was on a day when it was finally nice enough to be outside. I had plans to invite friends over for cigars, but ultimately, I decided that inhaling a monstrous amount of smoke might not be the best thing for my condition.
By bed time, my mood and feeling had not improved. However, my nose was both throbbing and glowing, and I was reconsidering the legend of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I stocked up on drugs, apologized to my spousal unit in advance for the torture I was surely going to inflict on her throughout the night, and collapsed in bed.
This all leads to the perfect morning.
When my spousal unit's alarm went off, I went to the bathroom real quick and took a slug of Nyquil before collapsing back in bed. Three hours later, the doorbell goes off. I call out "Be right there" and throw on some clothes. As I shamble to the door, I wonder why I have Peter Cetera's "Next Time I Fall" stuck in my head. My landlord's maintenance man is at the door, letting me know he's here to fix the back door...a request I made in November. I stumble back to the bedroom, but there is no more sleep...just a battle between the crappy mid-eighties MOR ballad, the numbing effects of super cold medicine, and the hammer/drill sounds from the back door.
At least it can only get better, right? Hey, Road House is on AMC. Philosophy in the morning!
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