In addition to impacting my ability to breath, my cold has really taken a toll on my ability to think and speak clearly. While staying home sick, I received a call to do a media interview. I quickly changed into my ‘work clothes,’ threw away my pile of snout rags, folded up the cozy blanket and, by most appearances, looked ready to go.
The reporter and photographer arrived and set up shop in my front yard – where the lawn hadn’t been mowed for days and most of my plants were dead (weather related, of course). I participated in the interview and, afterwards, realized that was probably not my best decision. My eyes were heavy, my physical movements were slow and animated, and I answered the question before he finished asking it.
This isn’t because I’m telepathic, rather, it is because he had asked it previously and in the middle of my response I sneezed – so hard that my eyes started watering (if it wasn’t for kegeling, I would have had other problems as well). “I really like that response. Can you say it again once your eyes aren’t watering? Although, that does make it look very emotional,” he said. “No. no emotion,” I said while sniffling and wiping my teary eye. “I’ve received very strict orders about not showing emotion.”
The next day, still congested, I met That’s Not Chinese for a quick after work drink. She, too, has been sick, so it was the first time either of us had been out for something other than medications and book readings about polygamists.
I was attempting to share the interview story with her when it became very apparent that I had no business communicating with others while I was sick. “I like you on cold medicine,” she told me. She might have, but the server wasn’t as keen because it took me a minute to process his questions and create a response. That’s Not Chinese decided to share my current situation with him in an attempt to justify my delays, “Sorry, she’s on cold medicine.” “On cold medicine and drinking wine,” he snidely commented while walking away. A few minutes later, in standard delayed form, I said, “There went his tip.”
That’s Not Chinese and I ended up staying at the restaurant for several hours and at one time I decided to tell her an additional and crucial part of a story. “Oh, it gets even better,” I excitedly told her. Then, I thought for a second, played back our conversations in my mind, and had a realization, “Sorry, I already told you that part of the story earlier.” Looking a little let down, she replied, “You’re pretty excited about it – you can tell me again.”
We began talking about bear traps and land mines when I thought of something related, but could not think of the actual term. I finally decided to ask, “What are those things in the sky?” “Stars,” she laughed. “No, I mean, yes, stars, but what is the other name for them?” “Something to do with astrology, I think,” she replied. We both just sat there, looking up at the sky, with a blank look on our faces. “What are those things?” she asked. “I asked you first,” I replied.
A few days later, she sent me a message, “I finally figured it out (sober)…they are constellations.” Oh, yes, those things.