Today started off as horribly as any other. Even with the bed against the wall, I still couldn't manage to get up on the right side. I turned off the chirping alarm that was set all too early, and quickly and unwillingly got into Army mode. I threw on my boots, and stood up just in time to realize what I had known was coming. SMACK!, head cold. The worst kind too, Iraqi. The cold or flu that I had been fighting off for the last couple of days had finally hit me square in the face.
I meagerly assumed the normal position of the days guard at that time in the morning when you'd usually like to hit the snooze one more time. The queasy, nauseous feeling wasn't helping the situation, and even after all the pill therapy I could handle, and over filling my bladder, I could not be saved. Up-chucking into a Gatorade bottle is not my idea of a good Sunday morning, but it's certainly one I've known before. Usually for a different kind of sick. The four hours of standing, watching and praying something exciting and worthwhile would happen ended as it always did, on time but late.
After being saved by the afternoon four hour nap, I felt only slightly better. Garage band still practicing in my head, nose still marathoning, chest still crumbling, and eyes still bleeding. I started to move around, and tried my best to will my sickness away. It seemed to work after I got some more fluids in me, and some anthrax covered Iraqi pizza. 'It's for Americans.' 'Does that mean he's going to put anthrax on it?' 'Hold the anthrax.' 'Does that look like anthrax to you? Aw fuck it, we got the immunizations anyways.' After gorging myself on the food, it was time for my favorite part of Sundays. Though no longer a morning routine while here, it was still time for Football. I headed upstairs with mom's age old remedy for curing sickness, 7up, saltines and TV. Somehow no one had claimed the remote yet, and I was able to flick on the Viking game which just so happened to be on one of the AFN channels. My luck for the day had turned. Finally.
The game as I was watching it, was pretty one sided. The Vikings were dominant, and before I could watch them destroy the team at hand, it was time for our platoon quality time. Nearly two hours fell off the clock, and I returned upstairs, still my seat open where I had been. The score was closer than it was when I left, and that grinding feeling in the bottom of my stomach was no longer from the nausea. I watched as the lead slipped out of the grasp of the Vikes. I watched as the old man threw a huge pass down field, setting us up for the go-ahead score. Too much time left on the clock, and the other team was able to get into field goal range, and take a shot at the win with time expiring. I hadn't held my breath for that long in awhile. The kicker pulled it, and my slight run of luck continued. VICTORY!
Like rolling a snake eyes when betting it all, my lucky lady decided to leave me. We sat on the trucks waiting to see if we were going to be needed for the length of the pregame show and 5 innings. The Dodgers game was on, and I was missing it. I suppose it was a good thing. After finally being let off mission, I caught the game right as the Phillies, the hated ones, scored their 7th and 8th runs. Wake up is just a few hours away, and since I'm an L.A. fan, I left early to beat the traffic. Laying in bed, sniffling and snorting, I couldn't find peace. I listened to my ipod and tried to sleep on the Dark Side of the Moon. After over an hour of tossing and turning, sniffing and sneezing and coughing, I made my way to what was supposed to be a nice warm shower with the fresh morning light poking in through the windows. I turned on the shower and stepped in, just in time to be scolded by the last of the hot water, and then immediately stung by the cold. No sleep, no shower, plenty of sick, no good.
The best thing about going to bed before midnight, is knowing that tomorrow is a new day. But always going to be at 3, 4, 5, 10 in the morning? It's still just the same day. It's always a new afternoon. Morning, afternoon, evening, even night or day, it's still just another day of Dog & Pony. But tomorrow is not just another day, not just another MNF, or Dodgers playoff game. It's not just a new day, or new beginning, it's a day closer to home. Even with a loss, or a made field goal, lack of sleep, a freezing cold shower, or winning the dog & pony show, I have something else to celebrate. _____ is only a day away.
Count it...
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