This morning a dude in bellsouth regalia knocked on my door. I signaled "one minute" (I had to find my pants, opening doors while in underwear is not recommended, tho i have been known on occasion to do so). He was patient.
He asked, "so what's wrong with your phone this time?" as though he'd been here recently instead of several years ago. I stared blankly at him, wondering if I had been cough-syrup calling. We finally sorted out that he was looking for my next-door neighbors who live two miles away.
I explained how to get there and sent him on his mission of the day then stood in the yard for a few minutes trying to deal with sensory overload. The colors seemed a bit too bright, everything was a bit too sharp, the air was too moist and hot (that'd be humid, right?) and tasted bitter. I turned and wobbled back to the steps and plopped down. My ears were sloshing with my heartbeat and some sort of large heavy equipment drone (turns out that was my air conditioner). I leaned forward and my head promptly popped off and rolled away, thus freeing up my lungs to gasp, rattle, and hum even louder.
I am so glad to be back inside and promise to not ever jam that much movement into a small time-frame like that when i am feeling this shitty. it tends to stir up the sediments that are coating the swampiness of my lungs and clouds my brain to the point where i was wondering if i could just lie down in the grass to die or did i really need to get back inside whereupon i might live to see yet another day.
Here it is a few hours later, I'm feeling better, more removed from death's threshold. now i am merely struggling to breathe deeper than a shallow pant and wondering if i will ever draw a phlegm-phree breath again.
so, how's your weekend?