When I get sick, my body proves how much it hates me. It happened this time the same way it always does, with a slight sore throat. I never catch it early enough or trust my gut when I know that I shouldn't go out or have that last drink at the bar or, more than likely, the last three on my couch while writing. By the time I back peddle, it's over and my face feels like it's going to implode. And so it was this time.
I went to bed Sunday night with the nagging feeling that I was going to get sick. I tried to stay positive, because of the deal with the water and positive energy ( see: http://deanradin.blogspot.com/2006/10/effects-of-distant-intention-on-water.html and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Masaru_Emoto) but evidently, I needed a thousand blind monks to meditate on my healthiness and wellbeing to make a discernible difference. So I woke up to my body revolting against me and my sore throat in full force. So, for the last 3 days, I've been in and out of consciousness and on and off of my couch while pumping alternating doses of dayquil and nyquil down my throat.
And now, after 3.5 days of fighting my own body, only now, does the weather choose console me with its furious downpour and impatient grumbling. Being sick in 90 degree beautiful sunniness just adds insult to injury.
Now it's just a matter of my asthma figuring out I'm not sick anymore, and my neti pot running clear and strong from nostril to shining nostril. Amen.
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