Have a Tissue

So my mother invites me to her house . . . and she uses that "I'm your mother and I'm always right" voice when I hesitate and she says, " . . . well, you could stay here and relax, I suppose." Which really means pack your stuff and get in the car.

And that I did . . . so now I'm having a bucket of blood mixed with snot allergy attack from the damn cat and I really, really want to go home but am dosed on davocet and have no car. No escape. No escape from Stately Wayne Manor . . . or Witch Mountain for that matter.

And I itch all over. I'm hoping that is also a cat reaction but am having paranoia that it's the Kleflex or whatever heavy duty antibiotics that they have me on . . . I'm waiting for the blisters and the skin sluffing or what have you that happens when you have a bad reaction to antibiotics. Oh, and in my drug haze (did I just say drug haze? pain moderation . . . that's what I meant) I heard my mother wrong and thought I was only supposed to take one antibiotic pill a day, when I was supposed to take four a day. So this all could just be infection settling into my brain.

I can't sleep, but everyone else is asleep . . . so I'll just wait until my dad gets up at 8 a.m. and talk him into talking me home, with the lure of the Trader Joes dangling before him. Cheap wine, daddy, take me to Starbucks and then home and there is cheap wine. (he would call it inexpensive . . . 7.49 for Columbia Crest Twin Vines is a darn good deal) I can't even lie down for fear of drowning. And my face HURTS. And I still have to wear this nose diaper (my mother prefers "nose bra", just for the record) because of the oozing of blood.

I can't taste anything. I can't smell anything. I have to breathe through my mouth, which makes my tongue all dry and yucky. I have to use a sippy cup because using a glass just gets the gauze all wet. If I could taste anything my mouth would taste like, well, blood. I have all these weird scrapes in my mouth from the tubes, I guess. Oh, and I can't talk because you have to use your palate to talk . . . and I can feel the clots above my palate and well, I don't want to "disturb" them. So, yeah, day two . . . pretty miserable. At least I got my contacts in . . . wearing glasses pretty much sucked too.

I have to sneeze (darn cat . . . darn mom) but can't because my brains might fall out.