The house process continues to rage across my life like a wombat on methamphetamine. While I had that under control, I also came down with a bit of a complete sinus disaster on Thursday, which left me feeling like I had a blanket wrapped around my head for the past four days.
Have you tried fighting an allegorical rabid marsupial on uppers with a blanket wrapped around your head? Slightly more challenging than your typical allegorical wombat-fighting.
(PS: On wombats, Wikipedia says the following:
Wombats are Australian marsupials; they are short-legged, muscular quadrupeds, approximately 1 metre (39 in) in length with a very short tail. … [T]heir lack of fear means that they may display acts of aggression if provoked, or if they are simply in a bad mood. Its sheer weight makes a charging wild wombat capable of knocking an average-sized adult over, and their sharp teeth and powerful jaws can inflict severe wounds.
See that sidetrack I just took? That is my life for the past four days.)
Usually if I’m sick – even a little under the weather – I go on complete life lockdown. I’ll go to work or appointments, but I am low key and constantly snacking and hydrating.
Friday didn’t really allow for that. I went to a United Way business breakfast and awards, which meant I had to be up early and completely on-point w/r/t personal style. Somewhere in there i may have forgotten that I already took decongestant, so I took it again. At that point I think *i* began to resemble a wombat.
Then I had to condense a full workday into a less-than-full workday to deliver a huge project. Afterward, what was supposed to be a 10-minute appearance at a goodbye party turned into a four-hour odyssey, interrupted intermittently by calls to our Realtor until my phone died.
And, PS, for the first time in five years the internet in our house was completely down.
Yeah, so, not a lot of snacking and hydrating in there, which meant i woke up at 7am on Saturday in less than tip top shape – making it a perfect day to jump out of a plane with Gina and Wes.
Just ignore that Peter is carrying an entire roll of toilet paper with him as he straps into his ‘chute. “Why a roll of toilet paper,” you inquire? Because he is using boxes of tissues at the rate of 2boxes:3hrs.
Fast forward seven hours and half a roll of toilet paper and no skydive has occurred, due to cloud cover. Which, honestly, I know it’s a very complex process with a seemingly endless array of safety concerns, but when you’ve paid and you’re sitting there on the bench staring up at clouds with hunks of toilet tissue wedged up your nostrils you are thinking, what is the big fucking deal with the weather that it’s going to interfere with you THROWING ME OUT OF A PLANE!?
It’s probably all for the best because – as E pointed out – if your sinuses are completed jammed even after two boxes of tissues and half a roll of toilet paper you probably do not want to introduce massive, repeated pressure changes to ram that farther up into your brain.
I finally got my rest and hydration after that, but I had to make up for all the abuse of being out and about before I felt totally blanketless. And, while resting and hydrating and lacking internet, I didn’t get all that much done in the way of signing away my life in exchange for a charming 87-year-old Tudor.
And that was the last four days of my life.
I’ll come back and tell you the next actual chapter of the house project tomorrow. Ish. I have to make sure that wombat is corralled before I make a big show of talking about it.