I got sick almost three weeks ago and whatever I had migrated south and set up camp in my lungs. It hasn't gotten better, so I left work early today to see the doc. 30 minutes after checking in, I had a prescription slip in hand for 2 different medications, which by the way I didn't like and I almost called my friend Sara to discuss this with her. See, Sara is a pharmacist, but we, my circle of friends and I, probably consider Sara to be our primary physician. We call her regularly asking her to diagnose our pains.
My diagnosis: bronchitis. I guess the gurgling sounds errupting from my lungs with each hacking episode was probably a good hint, no?
Great. I'm supposed to compete in a triathlon this Sunday in Palm Springs. The doc scrunched up her face when I told her so, but she didn't outright say I shouldn't do it...we'll see how I feel. If I think I won't drown, fall over or collapse during any of the stages, then I might just give it the old college try. One for the Gipper, and all that jazz. After I left the wonderful monopoly and propagandist organization that is Kaiser Permanente, I headed for the grocery store.
Ever have those days where you have 1-2 items you need to get and you end up leaving the store with several times that amount? I call it schizophrenic shopping, aka "shopping while you're hungry." In addition to the ground beef and apples I needed, I also left with: Miracle Whip (can't justify this one, but it looked good on the shelf, and once it was in my cart, I had to buy some bologna), Teddy Grahams (nostalgic), Lay's chips and Pabst Blue Ribbon (for the hubby), chicken wings and chicken tenders (which meant I had to track back and get some Hidden Valley Ranch dressing), tapioca pudding and Haagen Dazs strawberry ice cream.
The last two items were purely sinister and totally unnecessary. I have, at times--most of the time, a serious lack of self-control when it comes to sweets. Especially ice cream. Ice cream is my Achilles heal and probably the reason my new Bender Ball won't produce the dramatic results I'm expecting it to. I expect that this little green magic ball with transform my body so that it looks like Jackie Warner from the reality TV show on Bravo called "Work Out."
Oh yeah. In addition to ice cream, I'm addicted to shit television. Absolutely worthless, does-nothing-good-for-your-intellect, voyeuristic television.
And I love it.
I love it all.