Wow I feel shitty.
It's been a long time since I've been this sick, and it's extremely annoying because it's making me wanna sleep constantly while it just so happens I have a billion things to do. Not to mention the distraction of having my nostrils function as leaky snot faucets. Seriously, the flow hasn't let up all day. The waste basket next to me is overflowing with tissue.
Of course, to-day just would be the day I had to get my car fixed.
In another of her acts of stupendous generosity, my aunt offered to loan me the money for my new tires. So I got up early so I could get to Discount Tires at the proper time. Meaning I got only about four hours of sleep--less, actually, because Hershey Dog developed an unrelenting hacking cough during the night that was somehow magnified into a Death Camp klaxon to be heard throughout the house.
So while I was silly with illness and fatigue, I had to somehow find something to do with myself in Santee Town Centre whilst my car was being worked with.
I wandered around a bit . . . was forced to dart into Target to blow my nose, which I did after a police officer kindly pointed the way to the restroom directly in front of me.
I then made my way to Barnes and Noble where I purchased some green tea that actually made me feel a bit better and helped me considerably in getting through my next ordeal.
When I walked back to the car place, I saw that for some reason, in the process of replacing my two tires, the mechanic found it necessary to empty my trunk of its copious unruly contents. As I approached, I got to watch him roughly pulling from the trunk stacks of my old drawings, old books, video tapes, toys, and printouts of some of my writing. He even stopped to briefly read a snippet of the first page of my novel's chapter 1--the chapter's entitled, "Let's Have Sex," which prolly caught his eye.
My precious stuff, many of which I've had since I was small child, now lay on the asphalt, and I was only spared the indignity of squatting on top of it all to prevent the winds from carrying it off or something because amongst my junk was a collapsed Bombay box which I reassembled and employed to hold most of my exposed things.
This I did rather frantically, and once done, I had to stand guard over it because I simply had nowhere to take it. I just wanted to kneel and cry I felt so bloody sick and humiliated. Except I think I felt very dim and fuzzy-like, standing there, pretty hot in my black turtleneck which I'd worn because the week’s schedule has not given me time for laundry.
And of course meanwhile, I'm sniffling like crazy, wiping my nose with some napkins I'd gotten at Barnes and Noble. Although the adrenaline produced by having to preserve my things cleared my sinuses slightly.
It turned out that not only did I need tires, but one of my wheels was in fact bent, which explained another problem that I had actually thought was to do with the alignment. Forty dollars of the fifty I had on me took care of this.
But then--ha!--after all this I had a working car again. I immediately wanted to go out and get stuff done. However, while I was on the freeway I came really close to falling asleep at the wheel. Considerably alarumed by this, I decided to head back and just spend the whole day indoors, recuperating.
Haven't been able to get much work done. I tried, a few hours ago. I tried working on the short story I'm doing for my Death and Dying in Literature class's final, but I couldn't get any further than getting utterly frustrated by being unable to find a suitable quote to replace the Oscar Wilde one I was originally gonna use for segment one but ultimately decided was not appropriate.
I watched Geraldo Rivera interviewing Scott Ritter on Fox News Network and became aware of what a tremendously conceited bungler Rivera is when he actually accused Ritter of being a cheerleader for Saddam Hussein. And I meanwhile gained considerable respect for Ritter.
I also managed to do some laundry and nap.
At some point in my slumberings, I had a dream that felt kinna healing--Tori Amos giving me some kind of award for having had a cold.
A dream, no doubt, partly provoked by the absolutely amazing Tori Amos concert trisa and I attended last night.
Tori looked gorgeous. trisa observed that the lovely woman resembled a Roman Goddess in her elegant gown draped over jeans and pointy heeled boots. I thought she looked more like a Greek Goddess, but that’s me.
Ugh, Tori was amazing. Her voice was in perfect form, and her band did marvellously with her. I was given to realise how very many songs of Tori’s have clouds in them.