(Michael Adamek)
Conveniently, I can't sleep the night before I am supposed to return to work. Sinuses. I have been lying in bed for hours tossing and turning, flipping from one side to the other, trying to create the magical balance that will hold long enough for me to go back to sleep. What fun.
There is no apparent end to the night. Perhaps my issues with insomnia are completely work related. Well, not work related, but related to the anxiety I have towards my job, or returning to my job. In one month I will have been at my current job for five years. I once read that if you stay at a job for more than five years without advancement then it looks bad for any future employers. They will see that as a sign of you being less than motivated.
Oh my... if they only knew. I have never understood how people truly dedicate themselves to the task of a menial job. It's as if the only joy they derive from life is pleasing those that they perceive as being "above" them on the ladder of life. If they get an occasional pat on the head or a nod of recognition then they are fueled for months on end with deep-rooted satisfaction. It sickens me. They are either being false or they truly are the dumbest people I've ever met in my life. Though I'm not ruling out the possibility that they might be both.
Well, actually sitting up and writing this has helped my sinuses some. Perhaps if I write a little bit more it might give me a window to go back to bed and try to fall asleep again, before the sensation of cavernous ever-migratory snot motion returns. It is always a lesson in gravity and viscosity, a balance that can be struck but never held.
I just found a jar of Vicks VapoRub on the table, left there by Rachel, for me. I generously applied some to the inner mucous membrane of each nostril, wondering if it is in fact meant to be used that way, but unable to read the label as I'm still in the dark, except for the computer screen. Ok, in truth I was too lazy to walk the jar the 3 feet back towards the computer as I was going to get a glass of water. Too late, the potential damage is done, each nostril is filled with the magical petroleum power of vacillation goo. Already, things are improving.
I'm going to try again to go back to sleep. It is now 2:13 am, will advise.
Ok, 7:42 am, some sleep under my wings, though with much tossing and turning. Once your sinuses become clogged it's as if all of the other systems develop problems to match. When I woke up my throat was dry and coarse, my breath must have been horrific. Each ear has spent the evening trying to out-wax the other. There was an accumulation of crust at the corner of one eye that I was afraid to remove, it seemed far too imbedded into the tissue. The cranial bone on the front of the face feels bruised, tender. Perhaps a tea with lemon and honey will magically correct all of these issues but I hold little hope for it.
Ok, tea with no lemon. We might have lemons somewhere but I couldn't find any. Honey will have to do, so I used extra. It's difficult to believe that now all that stands between me and work is a scaldingly hot shower and a long car drive. I haven't used more than 1/3rd of a tank of gas since the boy has been born. I hope I remember all the rules of the road.
Ok, clearly there is nothing to report here. I won't try to lure you, dear reader, on any further. I'm certain that my sinus issues must be fascinating to read about. I'm planning a tell-all magazine article. But I've somehow always felt that I was called for a higher purpose than to just report on my ailments, gripes, and blossoming sickness. I could at least have the courtesy to wait until the fevered visions start.
Hopefully sometime today at work, just after lunch.
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