A Copywriter’s Blog
This is not the post

This is an experiment. It is an 11 o’clock experiment. You see, I am sick. Well, I have allergies. I know this is allergies because I felt the exact same way a month ago, for about a month, and you can’t get sick the same way twice like that. I hope. I desperately, desperately hope.

Mind you, the last time I felt like this the symptoms were so severe I wound up with laryngitis for a week. This is the part of the post where I am now not going to think about that.

This is not any of the posts I was wanting to write. It’s just that I’ve hit that magical point where the medicine has almost perfectly balanced the symptoms. This leaves me of course in that zombified state that makes people wake up wondering if they are not in fact about to discover all the mysteries of life beyond the pale, and are only sad to find that they won’t be able to tell any of their living friends about it.

Put another way- I’m am dried out to the point of dehydration from all the sinus meds, but my nose is still running. It’s like a war is being fought in my nostrils and I’m quite concerned the meds are dedicated to winning even if it kills me. Their goal is commendable, but there is such a thing as too much dedication, y’know?

The trouble is, I feel horrible, but who takes a day off for allergies? Allergies. You can’t even fix those. There’s no treatment- you’re just applying chemical band-aids to your insides. But it’s taken me about 24 hours of medication just to reach a point where I can sort of sleep, and once I woke up I thought to myself- you know what might be fun? If I spend the few I’m-ok-whoops-no-i’m-not zombie moments I have to see what happens when I write a post in a drug induced haze after finishing-

I was going to say “after reading part of a Terry Pratchett novel,” but apparently what happens is that I knock over a full glass of water onto my desk and keyboard, and then stare at it stupidly for several seconds before remembering I have to unplug my keyboard if I want any hope of saving it. Luckily, I use the meteorological filing system on my desk, which means that those papers near the top of the stack (or nearest the strata) are more useful. So it wasn’t a total catastrophe that all the papers on the bottom three layers soaked up all the water to the point where I had to peel them off the desk. In a way I’m quite relieved. I wasn’t sure how to finish this post, which I’m now writing on the wife’s machine, but this is about as good an ending as I can ask for.

Attempting to keep water from damaging my keyboard used up the last of my energy, so I’m now off to do what I should have done in the first place, which is switch from daytime to nighttime meds and go the fuck back to sleep. If I don’t make it, I love you all. Except you in the back. You’re a git. Which I think is British for prat. Which is British for jerk.

I’m gonna be so pissed if this becomes my most popular post ever.

One Response to “This is not the post”

  1.   Lev Says:

    your best post yet! (feel better)