duck-shaped pain

Thursday

Stayed home from school and work. Spent several minutes feeling guilty about this, before I fell asleep. Napped several times: once for three hours, another for four, and then took a pre-bedtime nap that went on for two. Drank a lot of juice. Felt pretty lightweight. Highlight? Wearing pajamas all day, and eating cold cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Friday

Woke up groggy and still felt crappy. But I had a paper due ("My Favorite Sound") in yoga, so I had to get up and go. Getting dressed was difficult, since everything felt scratchier than usual. If I could have just continued with the pajamas, I would have. Tried to drink some coffee, but couldn't -- it tasted terrible due to some weird taste in my mouth.

Went to yoga class all shivery and phlegmy, just to hand in the damn paper. Once I got there and got my mat out and sat down, the teacher announced that we were going to go through all of our moves without stopping, instead of the pose-rest-pose-rest thing that we've been doing. Great -- on the one day so far that I've been least able to do so. Still, I persevered, and I probably did better than I thought. The cold medicine made me all limp, so I was probably more malleable than usual.

Sat through some other classes, where I was alternately stiflingly hot or freezing cold. Not the most conducive body conditions for learning. Or thinking. Or managing to sit upright.

After my official class duties, I walked down to the snack bar for my first history club meeting. I got roped into this by one of my professors, and since his class was one of the ones I missed on Thursday, I figured that showing up would be impressive somehow. (It wasn't.) I also thought that this might be a good way to meet some of the people in my department, since I know exactly none of them. They all seemed friendly, but then they all wanted to shake my hand. Nothing makes a better impression than explaining to the eager fellow students you've just met that they shouldn't shake your hand because you just coughed up something awful into it. Actually, I didn't say that. What came out was something like, "No, don't touch me�I'm diseased!" I'm sure people will be talking about that for a long time.

What does the history club do? Hold bake sales. Go on field trips. There was extended discussion of both things. I may have agreed to do one or the other, I don't remember. I remember being sort of dizzy, and thinking about how joining a club reminded me of the first part of Rushmore.

Went to work. Was useless for two hours, but in a way that appeared to be non-useless. An important skill.

Went to bed at 8 p.m.

Saturday

Woke up at 10 a.m. -- an impressive 12 hours of sleep. Not a record, since it was aided by powerful cold medicine. But my late start afforded me only enough time to shower, dress, eat some more cereal (coffee was still out of the picture) and go to work again.

Which was at least pleasant. I was there only because The Employer was heading out of town on Sunday. Did some things I don't remember, ordered some supplies, checked out the new digital camera we bought. Listened to some music [1] really loud, because I was the only person there most of the time. Lunch was a burrito I stashed in the freezer months ago and forgot about; I found it again when I was rummaging around in there for a lab sample. Called it a day after about six hours.

Managed to read three consecutive pages in my Western civilization textbook. Then, more cold medicine. More sleeping.

Sunday

Lots more Pajama Time today. Managed to choke down some coffee and read the local paper. The actual paper part is very small -- the real weight of the thing comes from all the ads and coupons enclosed between sections. In order to extend my Sunday paper-reading pleasure beyond the five minutes or so it takes to read the stories, I have to read the ads, too. Shiny. Colorful. Happy.

After several hours of napping, I conclude that it might be a good thing if I got out of the house and did something pleasurable. I drive over to the Big Chain Bookstore and read decorating magazines for an hour or so. Somehow, this does not produce the desired effect.

Another nap. Do some laundry. I catch up on my Spanish homework, learning several important numbers, and order Chinese food for dinner. I want someone to make something and bring it to me, even if I have to pay for it. Very good, though.

Read some of my public history, to prepare myself for writing a paper that is due on Monday. Since it's only a one-page paper, my panic is limited. Hard to read and watch TV at the same time, though.

Scrawl some notes for my paper, figure I'll write it Monday morning. Bathe. Put on freshly laundered pajamas. Reflect that I do not feel any better today than I did on Thursday, despite many naps and the best products of the American pharmaceutical industry. Feel puzzled.

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