There are few things I hate more than being helpless, dependent and sick. Today I was all three.
I've been sick for a couple of days now. Nothing that I couldn't handle, I was sure. I've had about 13 pots of tea, a container of orange juice, and two boxes of Neo-Citran. Yesterday, I was feeling better and thought I had kicked it.
Today, it kicked back. I woke up feeling worse than I have felt in days. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and never move again. However, there was a small problem with that. I needed to go out. I had to pick up my meds (I'd used the last of them yesterday) and I was out of toilet paper and tissues. These last two items are imperative when you are a constant mess of boogers and drinking enough to make you pee every 10 minutes. You can run out of one and still function. Both?? You're screwed.
I had to go out. I slept as much as I could and at 2pm made my way out of the house. I threw a bunny hug on over my pajama shirt and threw jeans on instead of the bottoms. I was going to be quick -- who needs a bra? I waded threw 2 feet of snow that had blown back up onto my walkway during the night. I started shoveling, but got tired about a third of the way down.
I got to the car. Normally, it is kept in the garage in the back, but the wind had blown so much snow back there I would have had to shovel it out and I hadn't felt up to it yet. My car had been outside in the -490 degrees for over 24 hours. She wasn't happy. Protesting even the turn of the key, she made it well known she was pissed off at me. She's a garage car. A baby car. A spoiled, little precious pink princess on a puffy pillow car.
I let the car run for about 10 minutes before I took off for the grocery store. It was about a 7 minute drive, so I thought it was good. I shut her off and went inside. I bought my groceries, got my meds and headed out to the car.
She wouldn't start. I tried all the tricks of the trade that I knew. Nothing. I waited for a bit, hoping the gas influx would change her mind. Nothing. I did everything I had ever seen in the Kids in the Hall sketch. But, the Johnson's baby wasn't hiding under the hood.
I had to call The Guy. Now, I knew he was home sick too. We tend to get sick at the same time quite regularly. (Shocking.) I hated to do it, but I knew he'd know what to do. Or, he could drive me home and I could just leave the dang car where it lay. And perhaps sell it for junk metal. Problem? I forgot my cell phone at home. (I think, I still can't find it)
I walk back into Safeway with my nose running, my face cold, and dread in my tummy. I hate not being in control. It sucks. So, I looked for a pay phone. Couldn't find one. I guess they assume all people have cell phones. I borrowed the store's phone and called. The Guy came out to get me.
He figured we should at least check the car first to see if he could get it to start. It started. It's like the frickin' toothache that stops hurting the second you go to the dentist. Or the car that stops making that noise the moment it pulls into the mechanics. It is completely demoralizing.
The only good thing was I didn't have to leave the car there overnight. Instead, The Guy followed me home, shoveled the path to the garage and put her back where she belonged. I put the groceries away, made yet another pot of damn tea, and felt useless. The Guy carried on his way (I am assuming to look into the legalities of retracting his proposal) and I went back to being sick, weepy, boogery, and tired.
All I can say is, next time, I'm gonna wear a bra.