As difficult as it may be to imagine, it’s actually much harder to take a sick day when one works from home. It’s enough of a challenge for me to convince people I’m actually working when I’m at the house, because I get to wear my jammies and take lots of smoke breaks. Also because no one actually pays me TO write, they pay me when I’m FINISHED writing, the pressure’s always on to get to that completed product as quickly as possible. It’s a dicey proposition. My friend Steve Yockey, a very successful playwright, appears to have a new script ready for production every month. I average about one a year. And it’s not like he’s writing crap, they’re really good plays, which makes me hate him. I’m trying to become more prolific, devoting a minimum of five hours a day to being imaginative. I’d been making fairly decent progress on a romantic comedy this week… and then I got sick.
I woke up this morning around four, all sweaty and icky, so I went to the kitchen wanting peanut butter and some milk. It’s a habit my sister and I share- an unexplainable need to get out of the bed in the middle of the night and have peanut butter and milk, naked in the light of the refrigerator. Just to be clear, we’ve never done this together. Neither of us even knew the other did it until she was oversharing on the phone one day and I fell over from shock.
I woke up this morning around four, all sweaty and icky, so I went to the kitchen wanting peanut butter and some milk. It’s a habit my sister and I share- an unexplainable need to get out of the bed in the middle of the night and have peanut butter and milk, naked in the light of the refrigerator. Just to be clear, we’ve never done this together. Neither of us even knew the other did it until she was oversharing on the phone one day and I fell over from shock.
I had no idea anyone else in the world did this, let alone that it was a family trait. She squats on the floor while having her snack, but I stand. If I squatted, my balls might touch the linoleum, and that would be cold. I’ve warned Shannon that she has to stop this before her children get old enough to go wandering late at night. If I’d ever seen my mother crouched naked on the kitchen floor with a spoonful of peanut butter and a glass of milk, I would have blinded myself with the nearest convenient sharp object. I expect her kids would have the same reaction.
Normally my little late night forage does the trick and I feel right as rain, but I had an inkling there was trouble brewing in my body. I woke up at seven feeling like I’d been hit by a train. Coughing, hacking, fever, pounding headache, the works.
“Ugggggh! Baby!” I called out, but there was no response. My fiancé was already at work. Damn it. Don’t you hate it when you feel like hell and there’s no one around to watch?
I stumbled into the bathroom, searching for the leftover mega-strength Ibuprofen I’d gotten from my dentist a few months ago. I found it, choked down four, and laid on the bed, waiting for sweet release.
That’s when I remembered we’d run out of those Ibuprofen back in October.
Normally my little late night forage does the trick and I feel right as rain, but I had an inkling there was trouble brewing in my body. I woke up at seven feeling like I’d been hit by a train. Coughing, hacking, fever, pounding headache, the works.
“Ugggggh! Baby!” I called out, but there was no response. My fiancé was already at work. Damn it. Don’t you hate it when you feel like hell and there’s no one around to watch?
I stumbled into the bathroom, searching for the leftover mega-strength Ibuprofen I’d gotten from my dentist a few months ago. I found it, choked down four, and laid on the bed, waiting for sweet release.
That’s when I remembered we’d run out of those Ibuprofen back in October.
So what the hell did I just take?
“You’re up early,” said my best galpal Slutty Mandy when I called.
“I think I just took a drug overdose. Tell Preppy I love him and I didn’t do it on purpose!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I thought it was Ibuprofen! Quick, get some paper, I have to tell you how my romantic comedy is supposed to end. Make Steve finish it. He works quickly.”
“What did you take?”
“Four muscle relaxers.”
“Oh, please, Topher. I could take four muscle relaxers and go to a spin class.”
“I don’t have your freaky drug tolerance!”
“You survived chemo. You’ll survive this. Just get back in bed and sleep it off.”
“Are you sure?”
“You’ll sleep like a rock. Oh, make sure you pee first, you don’t want to deal with the consequences of that one.”
I fell into a fitful sleep and dreamed about the play I wasn’t writing. I wish I could remember details, because then at least I kinda would’ve been working. When I woke up a few hours later, I was groggy and it felt like a muskrat had taken up residence in my mouth. I was floppy and couldn’t move. This happened to me the last time I smoked pot. We had a houseguest who broke out a gravity bong, and I wanted to show I was hip and could be part of the fun. I lost a whole Sunday as a result, lying on the bed convinced that I had actually damaged part of my brain. The room swirled in and out of focus for an entire afternoon, as I slowly returned to sobriety and accepted that I’m simply no longer a party boy.
Now the bedroom was once again spinning, but I’d painted since the last time, and the green made it much more pleasant. I tried watching TV, but abandoned it when I couldn’t take Kathie Lee Gifford for one more second. When and why exactly did they unleash her on the public again? She’s a horrible, horrible woman. I think she really tries to make her guests feel uncomfortable. I’ve got a cousin who does that. I thought about calling her and telling her off. The cousin, not Kathie Lee. I don’t have Kathie Lee’s number.
“You’re up early,” said my best galpal Slutty Mandy when I called.
“I think I just took a drug overdose. Tell Preppy I love him and I didn’t do it on purpose!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I thought it was Ibuprofen! Quick, get some paper, I have to tell you how my romantic comedy is supposed to end. Make Steve finish it. He works quickly.”
“What did you take?”
“Four muscle relaxers.”
“Oh, please, Topher. I could take four muscle relaxers and go to a spin class.”
“I don’t have your freaky drug tolerance!”
“You survived chemo. You’ll survive this. Just get back in bed and sleep it off.”
“Are you sure?”
“You’ll sleep like a rock. Oh, make sure you pee first, you don’t want to deal with the consequences of that one.”
I fell into a fitful sleep and dreamed about the play I wasn’t writing. I wish I could remember details, because then at least I kinda would’ve been working. When I woke up a few hours later, I was groggy and it felt like a muskrat had taken up residence in my mouth. I was floppy and couldn’t move. This happened to me the last time I smoked pot. We had a houseguest who broke out a gravity bong, and I wanted to show I was hip and could be part of the fun. I lost a whole Sunday as a result, lying on the bed convinced that I had actually damaged part of my brain. The room swirled in and out of focus for an entire afternoon, as I slowly returned to sobriety and accepted that I’m simply no longer a party boy.
Now the bedroom was once again spinning, but I’d painted since the last time, and the green made it much more pleasant. I tried watching TV, but abandoned it when I couldn’t take Kathie Lee Gifford for one more second. When and why exactly did they unleash her on the public again? She’s a horrible, horrible woman. I think she really tries to make her guests feel uncomfortable. I’ve got a cousin who does that. I thought about calling her and telling her off. The cousin, not Kathie Lee. I don’t have Kathie Lee’s number.
And it’s a good thing I don’t.
I drifted off to sleep again, and dreamt of Kathie Lee Gifford interviewing me while I ate peanut butter. This had nothing to do with my play, but was certainly imaginative, which was all I’d wanted out of the day in the first place.
I drifted off to sleep again, and dreamt of Kathie Lee Gifford interviewing me while I ate peanut butter. This had nothing to do with my play, but was certainly imaginative, which was all I’d wanted out of the day in the first place.
