2004-08-20 @ 10:35 p.m.
Iíve never really been a nap type person, being bipolar. Once Iím awake, Iím pretty much UP(!!) ready to kick ass- ready to feel guilty --because thatís my job-- ready to eat as much chocolate as possible and then blaze through the rest of the day like some freakiní comet of doom.
But in the last 4 days, Iíve been discovering the Joys of Napping. Iíve never really been very good about taking the advice of doctors (right ďAĒ?), but this napping thing is cool. And pretty necessary considering my recent health problems. Iím also supposed to be drinking plenty of fluids, but I havenít quite got a handle on that, but napping. Thatís golden!
Of course the very nature of napping, requires that it not be during regular sleeping hours, because otherwise, well, do I have to spell it out? Youíre just sleeping for crissakes. Besides the excitement of napping is that you get to do it whenever you damn well please. You get to insert that little old nappie whenever you want.
And if youíre one of those palm pilot types, which Iím not, but if you are, you can schedule it right between your power pilates and anger management, and no one will ever know. Hee, hee.
But if youíre me (and I know that you want to be), you can just hurl yourself on the couch, and fall into a death-like sleep.
Although that is a little hard to do at my house. My house is pretty noisy. Its not that I live with kids or spouses, its just that I live in the middle of a really noisy neighborhood. The reason I nap on my living room couch, is because I have the air conditioning unit from hell right next to my bedroom. And that damn thing is so loud that I couldnít possibly fall asleep with it going on and off every 4.3 minutes.
So I move about 10 feet further due south into my living room and I have an extra wall between us, and I can only hear the vastly annoying grinding noises of my nemesis, at a more satisfactory distance.
And then there are the other noises in the neighborhood. I live across the street from the east side fire house. So every time some freakiní old lady thinks she sees a spider on the wall and calls 911, I get blasted out of my skin by a siren that is meant to be heard 8 miles away. I live across the street. Get the picture? Did I mention the siren makes my cat go into freak-out mode and she attempts to run up the mini-blinds when it goes off? And it goes off 1-5 times a day. Oy kitty vey!
And then we have the yippie dogs. The double yippie dogs. Theyíre neighbors. Two different people, own two different dogs, both of whom have supremely annoying yippie voices. They live behind me. Their owners let them out and usually within .0001 seconds of their arrival into the yard, they will go into what I call small dog opera mode. It starts out with kind of short, hurt YIPs. Like gee Mom, you just dumped me out into the big mean backyard. And then quickly escalates into something that sounds like a pack of coyotes singing "AIDA".
Would you just let the damn dog in the house???
And then lastly I have to listen to my landlord the Sopranos yacking at top volume. My kitchen window is at an angle with their sliding glass door. And you know how Eye-talians are. They have company constantly. The driveway is always filled with Chryslers and Cadillacs. Grandkids running around pretending theyíre shooting their cousins Guido. And my landlordís voice is just like Joe Pesce from "Goodfellas". Mrs. Soprano. And she kind of looks like him too.
So I have all this to contend with when Iím trying to take a nap, but I have been getting in some good ones. I got in a 3 hour one yesterday. And a 2 1/2 hour one today.
I was actually just recuperating from my trip to the doctors. All my tests were fine. No mono. No diabetes. No anemia. No thyroid. But I was still suffering from a fever and of course, the extreme fatigue. And also I have a really bad infection down south. After my doctor checked it out, she announced I probably have some kind of a strep infection. She then gave it a name. I tried to write it phonetically and it came out ďva-lick-it-you-like-itĒ. Iíve yet been able to find it on the Internet.
So when I came home, I called my mom and told her the news about the strep. She was disbelieving of course. ďStrep is like strep throat. You donít have a sore throat. Your doctor doesnít know what sheís talking about.Ē
ok, well whatever. She did give me a weekís worth of an anti-biotic called Omnicef. Iím just hoping that Omnicef isnít really a panacea for hypochondriacs.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty