February 24, 2005
This has been a week from hell.I have been enduring a strange sickness that consists mainly of a sore, swollen throat (where swallowing nothing but air hurts), agonizing pains throughout the whole of my body, but most poignantly in my back and shoulders followed up with a rather extreme bout of stupidity. I would unwillingly drag you through the whole of my week but, really, it is today that deserves a spot on the Laura Land wall of shame.
The blue Nyquil liquigely things wore off around 3:00 a.m. and I was aware of a brisk winter chill that suddenly enveloped my bedroom. I curled up within my blankets and piled two or three pillows on top of my body before realizing that I was f'ing COLD! I completely forgot that I had turned off the heat the day before due to the fact that I was experiencing similar symptoms that much (much) older women refer to as 'hot flashes,' and had left the kitchen window wide open. Complimenting my complete lack of foresight, I jabbed my elbow into my dresser while climbing back into bed after having cranked up the heat and closing the kitchen window.
After a couple more hours of repose, which included a good deal of tossing, turning and cursing, I stumbled out of bed. I hit the bathroom, inserted contact lenses and began to sweat profusely. 'What the?!' I thought, while doffing my sweatshirt and woolen socks, and then I noticed the heat was set at 75 freakin' degrees. Back to square one - I turned off the heat, but not before becoming overwhelmed with light headedness (in Laura Land, that's a word) and tripping over a pair of shoes I had lazily left on the living room floor.
By this time I was becoming wary of even brushing my teeth.
I showered and dressed and all that stuff that people do in the morning before they present themselves to the general public and headed out the door. I ran downstairs to grab the newspaper only to find that the jerk off who has recently taken over the paper route threw the paper only halfway up the hill and into a pile of a muddy, snow-slush. Despite the fact that the paper was nicely wrapped in an almost see through, blue condom like plastic, it had somehow gotten wet. I scribbled out a quick note to my building manager, Susan, requesting the keys for access to the roof of the building so that I might play sniper for a day when the paper boy comes by tomorrow and then headed off to class.
First stop; Sociology.
I am nearly always the first to arrive to this class in the morning, but just as everything else in my day began with an unusual tint, so did this phenomenon. There were about six or seven other students already sedentary in their desks and, get this, they were reading their Sociology books. Not once have I seen one person actually reading the text assigned to this class - let alone reading anything at all. This should have been a hint for me but I was too busy wheezing and gasping for air after having climbed three stories of steps (and, NO, I'm not that out of shape; I'm sick, damn it - bending over to tie my stupid shoes is exasperating at this point). I took my seat, roused a cough drop from my pocket and indulged in the morning's headlines.
It wasn't long before the Doc strolled in, voices dimmed and the hour stuck 9:00 a.m..
"Alright, exam time - everybody spread out and put your books away."
My eyes turned into two gaping orbs of WTF?! and I nearly choked to death on my menthol mint cough drop. No one even noticed, of course. I turned frantically to look at all the other faces in the room and kept repeating 'but the exam isn't until Monday' in my head. Monday! I thought the damned exam was on Monday! All week long I had been complaining about the fact that I have two exams on Monday - Sociology and Politics. Never once did I say 'Thursday' in my head. Monday!
Guess I only have one exam on Monday...
So, whatever. I had read all the chapters, I had a good idea of what was going on and I managed to form only two small puddles of sweat onto my answer sheet. My head was throbbing for the duration - partly due to the 104 temperature I surely had and partly due to the fact that I'm the world's biggest dumb ass. Despite all of this, I am fairly sure that I will score a decent grade on the exam. If crossing fingers and nervously attending to the throbbing lump on my elbow have any power over the tortures of test taking, I shall rise triumphant. At least I freakin' hope so.
After the exam, I strolled downstairs with a few extra minutes on my side before my two hour Politics class. I quickly searched my syllabus to ensure the fact that I had not made yet another mistake in dates and exited the building to call my friend, Mr. Porter. I turned on my cell phone, ranted and raved about all of these foolhardy events and then settled into an empty classroom to clear my thoughts. I was relaxed and looking forward to this class as it has become a grand source of entertainment during my scholastic adventures at Carroll. The professor is not only easy on the eyes, but also dictates an extreme amount of affluent intelligence coupled with a sharp, yet casual, sense of humor. It's the perfect medley of Politics and Pleasure.
At any rate, we took a five minute break after the first hour and the girl to my left returned with a buffet of fattening breakfast foods. Doughnuts with sprinkles, a chocolate chip muffin and a pudding cup with no spoon. I was imagining the entire front row of tables filled with wonderful buffet items, as I, with vexation, tend to space out now and then, when my cell phone starting dancing and blaring this ridiculous little jazz tune that I have not changed since my mother convinced me to keep it months ago. Thank GOD the damned thing was in the back pack pocket nearest me. I quickly hit a button or three to silence the maniacal song and blushed as I whispered 'sorry' to my neighbors.
Well, the phone was not hung up.
I could hear a tiny little voice protruding from my book bag for another five minutes or so, mocking my first inability to keep phone OFF during class. When normally I absolutely despise any person for even bringing a cell phone to class, I had become the perfect picture of the enemy.
So, welcome to my world. Welcome to Laura Land. This is what I do. I forget things, I run into things, I accidentally crank up the heat in my apartment to 95 degrees because I'm legally blind without my contacts, I lose my train of thought and, from time to time, I piss off the general public with my mother's favorite cell phone jazz tune. Really, this is why I write - it is the only place where I can hold a moment's worth of time. On paper and on a screen, this is where I become alive (3D, if you will) and it is also where I cannot be interrupted.
Now, this crazy day needs to end and, considering the pounding of my head, the ache in my neck and the overall weariness of my body, I think you'll agree. Nighty night, all!