It is the damnedest thing that one day you can take a daytime cold medicine and it takes the edge off your symptoms and it doesn’t particularly dope you up, then the next day you take the same damn medicine and you are high as a kite for the rest of the day. Only it’s not as much fun as, for example, the drugs all the college kids were doing in the ’70s (to be exact, I was in high school in the ’70s, and I did not do drugs, but I’ve heard).
I wasn’t really as high as a kite. I’m quite sure I was not a danger to myself or others, at least, no more so than I normally am. I guess “high as a a kite” was a poor characterization, as well as one of those cliches we writers are supposed to avoid like the plague. I should say “like the proverbial plague.” I have mentioned in the past that one can transform a cliche into a hip, post-ironic turn of phrase with the addition of the word “proverbial.” I don’t know if that is true or not, but if you call me on it, I will accuse you of being neither hip nor post-ironic.
As many readers have by now guessed, today is Wuss-out Wednesday. I spent the morning feeling sorry that I went home early on Friday. Who knew I was going to feel even worse today? I suppose I could have guessed it. I bet some of you did. As the morning wore on, I did not feel so horribly horrible, so that was all right. However, I had no wherewithal with which to write a blog post.
Now I am trying to type in something, anything, while I wait for Steven to get home from work. We have rehearsal again tonight. I hope my brain returns in sufficient force that I will be able to act like a director (get it? We’ll be in the theatre for a play rehearsal. I will ACT like the director, a little play within the play) (or maybe a play on words) (OK, no more cold medicine for me).