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The Queen of Phlegm I woke up this morning feeling like hell reheated in the microwave, all crusty edges and gushy insides and little flaming bits on the peaks. I'd spent most of Wednesday night and Thursday coughing until it felt like I could crush rocks with my abs of steel, and usually I have abs of Jello. My throat was raw, and joints I didn't even know I had hurt. I fell asleep at 8 p.m.on Thursday night and slept 11 hours, straight through to my alarm this morning, which I had set to remind me to call in dead to work.I followed that up with roughly 8 hours spent lying on the couch moving nothing but my eyes and my remote control fingers (pointer and thumb, specifically). I burned through the last 3 disks of Buffy like there was no tomorrow, which there wasn't since, as you know (or should know if you know what's good for you), Buffy is all about the coming of the Apocalypse(s). Unfortunately I had to drag myself out the door to my 5 o'clock acupuncture appointment. I wouldn't have gone but if you don't cancel at least 24 hours in advance they flay you alive, or some other more advanced form of ancient Chinese torture like sticking needles in the most sensitive parts of your body, then putting flaming brands into baby food jars and sticking the jars all over your body to cause embarrassing giant hickey marks. Oh wait� "You have phlegm!" announced my acupuncturist after feeling my pulses and staring at my tongue. (This after telling me I have lost weight, which I haven't. He tells me this every visit. I suspect that he thinks I have body-image issues or something.) "I always have phlegm. I am Phlegm-girl!" with a dramatic gesture to show that even Phlegm-girl gets a cape. "The Queen of Phlegm!" he corrected me. Hmmm. The Queen of Phlegm doesn't sound like the worst gig around. I could have been declared the Duchess of Fart or the Princess of Yak. Hopefully I'll feel better in the morning. 2004-12-11 || 12:21 a.m. |
