May 8, 2012

After spending all of Sunday outside working in the yard I came down with a severe case of allergy-drippy nose, the miserable kind where you blink and when your eyes pop back open suddenly there's a traffic jam happening inside your face and all the cars are honking at once. At the front of the line they're slowly filing their way out the only exit and if that one dude would just move over into the breakdown lane wouldn't this really go much faster?

I was so overcome that against my better judgment I went directly to the kitchen and prayed for mercy in the form of blessedly pink Benadryl. I took one dose right after dinner and promptly sneezed dripping gooey monstrosities all over the couch pillows while shouting garbled nonsense because I'm the very picture of feminine grace and beauty. Mmmm, so tasty hot. Get on this.

I waited and waited to feel better and never really did. I couldn't even taste the cookies I was eating, which is the real shame in this situation because wasting cookies is sacrilege in the religion I'm creating where I worship at the feet of All The Desserts. (Amen.) After another hour and a half of slack-jawed mouth breathing Jon brought me a glass of water and two more Benadryl and insisted that I take them. I did not argue, even as I was thinking that it was a terrible, horrible, no good idea.

I've always been notoriously sensitive to Benadryl, to the tune of near-immediate blackout. It's a great trick at parties but since it's sort of inconvenient to stop remembering how to walk I'm hesitant to take it unless I'm: #1- truly completely miserable and #2- in a safe place with ample time for sleeping, ie no driving, because it was pretty embarrassing that time my coworker had to drive me home in the middle of the day because they found me face-down on my keyboard at my desk. "Oh no mam, I'm not doing drugs, I was just sneezing and thenasdkfjabnkl;fjkHBV  ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzz." which unfortunately still ranks higher than the time I went to work with salmonella poisoning. (Apparently I'm very committed to showing up at work. Please note my extreme dedication, future employers.)

After I had already washed down the second dose I turned to Jon and said, "Probably shouldn't have done that. I only took the first one an hour and a half ago."

"WHAT!? I thought that was four hours ago! Why didn't you say something?!"

"...Yeah. I'm going to die."

It was around that time that I realized that the first dose had started to kick in after all and I hostilely muttered accusations in Jon's direction with my eyes closed. "You! You aren't paying attention! ...MORE Benadryl. ...YOU. And why... always posting ugly pictures of me... on instagram... ....stupid..."

–And then I fell asleep and never woke up. Benadryl is totally the new roofies.

[Okay, okay, I did wake up after all, obviously, as this is not a posthumouspost. Now I just have to keep pouring more more more hot coffee into my mouth as an emergency re-stimulator. I'm hoping that if I can reach the red fill line on my tummy it will drown the fuzzy ball of kittens that has sprung up in the space between my brain and my eyeballs. Ideally this would cut right through my post-Benadryl haze but instead I have a case of the shakes and a fierce craving for cheeseburgers. Also, I can't walk. I think I might be dead. The more you knooooooww!]
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