revelation at walgreen's

yesterday was nearly a total waste of a day for me.

00:00– jarred from sleep by the horrible twanging of some country singer's half-baked sentiment. the paramedic had turned it way up. driving down highway 40 in our big ol'— mobile ICU. stuff in earplugs and try to sleep or at least think about higher things in life than beer and chicks.
02:00– smallest surviving baby, like, ever. seriously. put the 600 gram premature genetically-deranged 40-day old little raisin in our plastic box and get back on the road. he opens one eye and looks at me as if to say, please just leave me be. something isn't right for a reason. my parents are simply poor protoplasm and i haven't a chance. get the feeling he will continue to survive. feel sorry for him.
05:00– drive home. suddenly hear the cowbell in te alabare. e-mail a little; take care of business. haven't gone to bed for real in—can't remember how long. marvel at the power of naps to sustain the body.
05:50–finally take a shower; feel much better. get ready for bed.
06:06– crap, crap, crap, no, no, no, crap, crap! my least favorite senile power-tripping transport nurse pages. "we've got a, a, a, a trip. we're fly, we're flying. how quickly can you be here." it's a statement, not a question. the answer is 25 minutes you old bat. 35 minutes with accessing the helipad and suiting up. "sigh. that'll be fine." of course it's fine, you don't have a choice. your other choice, letting the 07:00 person take the trip and leaving me alone, would have been logical. but no. feel unpresentably ugly. jam my clean wet head into the stinky used helmet. put down pride. let's just go.
08:30– back home. take my pills and go to bed.
13:00– allergic misery awakens me. get up and poke around.
13:40– they replaced my stupid makeover show with a stupid court show. back to bed.
17:00– up, for real this time. stare at the tv and the mess around me. think about dinner. don't feel like cooking.
19:00– put on a cap (!) and go to walgreen's. head straight for the benadryl section. thank God it's buy one, get one free. take seven minutes to decide which chapstick i want to buy, because i feel dry and buying lip balm always cheers me up for some reason. pick the one with the free sample of another kind inside and feel slightly better, thankful it's not as bad for me as overeating or as expensive as buying jewelry. wander the aisles in an aimless fog, head pressurized, palate on fire. the pens i like are 2 for 1.99. mirado black warriors are 8 for 1.99. walk away. realize what a total waste of a day it's been. make note of the distinct absence of despair despite that. pause, standing in the arch support/foot fungus spray/wart remover aisle.

feel hope.

thank God.

go home.

19:30– call my bro. talk about nothing. phone dies. IM about nothing.
21:00– don't feel like cooking. make spaghetti. eat it. resolve to clean house tomorrow.
23:00– realize i've been putzing around for a while and i can go to bed now. take 50 mg of benadryl and get excited that i'll sleep well. wait for it to kick in while at the computer. write a funny, pointless poem, then to bed.

04:50– awaken in allergic misery. it's a new day. grab pillow and go downstairs to couch. 25 more mg of benadryl. bite the bullet and take 20 mg of prednisone for the first time in my life. feel surprised at the foul lingering aftertaste. and back to sleep.

see? nearly, but not quite.