"Fly Bird", a watercolor on a play page

Day 302: Fly Bird

I have denied my hippie roots to some extent during this illness, buckling and having Rob pick up some Ibuprofen, Theraflu and Chloraseptic when the vitamin C, D and gargling with saltwater didn’t seem to be doing enough. I took Tylenol PM last night, hoping to get some solid rest so that I could force myself to work on a proposal for public art I’ve known about for a couple of weeks. The deadline was 4 pm… today. This elicited a “last minute Maries” chastising from Rob, but to be fair, I would have had it done much earlier had I not been struck down with sickness all week.

Sadly, my plan did not work, and I slept on the couch, alternating between hacking up green stuff and falling asleep. All in all, I’d had about 4 solid hours by the time Rob got up for work, at which point I conked out for another 3. When I got up, I actually felt ill enough to go to a clinic. I shelled out $65 to find out that I have viral pharyngitis, not strep, which gave me enough marginal peace of mind to get back into the office and hammer out my final proposal. By 2:30 pm, I was out the door and on my way to Elk Grove.

It was a journey out of some ridiculous sitcom episode. First, after some high-speed collating, I stood in line at Kinko’s for several minutes with a bunch of other people while the 5 employees ignored the line, angrily thinking of the Dave Chappelle PopCopy sketch. (Which is seriously hilarious. Check it out.) Then, I had to remind the Prius that we are in California and not the Midwest to get its GPS to work. Next, I made a mad dash down the freeway- that is, until I ran into a massive pile of traffic. Not commuter traffic, though- rubbernecker traffic. Some moron had apparently set the other side of the freeway on fire, and all these dumbass looky-loos had to slow down to check it out. This gave me time to discover that my papers didn’t really fit into the envelope I’d just purchased (damn it all!).

Amazingly, I made it to the location with 15 minutes to spare, and the gracious clerk happened to have an extra large envelope for me. “Good thing you made it,” he said, “we’ll probably have some late birds, and I’m going to have to tell them sorry, too bad!” I returned to the car, thrust my hands into the air and shouted, “Victory!”. And that was all the energy I could muster for the day. Besides this blog post, and little watercolor of a birdie on a page from Sartre’s “The Flies”, that is. 🙂 Have a great weekend folks, and thanks for all the well-wishes.