Monday, November 20, 2006
Hot Toddy Blogging
There are those who have never had a hot toddy (especially Baptists), BUT THEY DO WORK. I thought I'd explain. The most important part is to drink almost as much water as you can hold first, because later you are going to get dehydrated. Then you want to check your lying-down spot carefully. There should be lots of blankets. Deposit a container of fresh water there for later use. Now you are ready for the main event:
1) This is a last-resort measure.
2) You need some sort of powerful liquor. I use Jack Daniels, although it's a frightful desecration of whiskey.
- Honey (The real kind, if possible. Not that stuff in the plastic bottle.)
-Water or strong tea
4) You take one part lemon juice, one part honey. Add two parts water. Heat it up and stir until the honey is mixed in. Don't smell it. Mother Nature did not intend for honey and lemon juice to be mixed together, and it smells something like paint thinner. (Mother Nature is an unreliable bitch who cultivates viral illnesses for the sole purpose of torturing me, so who cares what she intends?)
5) Add two parts whiskey. Make sure that the whole mixture is very hot. This is almost the only use I've ever found for microwaves.
6) Now the difficult part. You are going to have to drink it. Just pouring it on your head does not work. Drink it in gulps.
7) First gulp. I consider abandoning this effort altogether. (Reflect upon the trials of the pioneers, upon the bravery of the soldiers, upon the whole panoply of human striving and suffering that has constituted humanity's long struggle up and out of the cave. Can I let them all down? This is a test of character! Dig deep, and swallow.)
8) Second gulp. (Meditate upon the dire situation. Surely there must be a way to turn this suffering into a benefit to humanity? Carry toddy to computer, and log on to Blogger. Whoa! Made it on the second try. NOT BAD. Swallow.)
9) Third gulp. Swallow without hesitation, because by this time my tongue is numb. Contemplate the strategic situation. Shortly after the next gulp, it's going to feel like someone snuck up behind me and whanged a frying pan over my head. There will be two remaining gulps. How likely is it that I will make it to the lying-down spot from the computer? Not likely. One possible approach is to tote the toddy into the bedroom and finish it there, but then the disgusting glass which held the disgusting mixture would remain bedside. This seems unendurable.
10) Fourth gulp, and it really doesn't taste half bad. Frying pan descends on schedule, because I am not a drinker. (Hmm. Hmmmmmmm. Perhaps the best approach is to just swallow the fifth gulp and slither sideways off the chair. The dog bed is only a short crawl away. Unfortunately, the dog is on it. Not Rescue Dog, who would certainly share, but the bulldog, who is, despite all of Rescue Dog's training efforts, still poor at sharing. Perhaps the long crawl to the bedroom is the best option, although there's this five inch step-up thingie to go from here to there. It may be difficult to navigate after the fifth gulp. Very. Yet, can anyone place a limit on the sum of human achievement? NO! We have gone to the moon and the bottom of the ocean in my lifetime! IT CAN BE DONE! Now it's clearly time to start singing. The Marseillaise.)
11) Fifth gulp, which goes down easily, considering I have trouble lifting the glass to my mouth. Frying pan whangs do that to you. (For some reason, Chief No-Nag does not like the Marseillaise. I have never encountered any trace of bigotry in him before, but remonstrances about Francophobic sentiments will have to wait until my tongue is less numb. He's been in a bad mood ever since he read the bit about the anti-war activists planning a "Global Orgasm" peace thingie, and he had wandered off to bed still muttering about it. My guess is that it's because he has accurately assessed the chances of him getting any out of my viralized carcass, which are slim to none.)
There you have it. Let no virus feel safe, the terrifying PNACian conspiracy of the whisky will drive you from your homes. You will lose your lives in an onslaught of terror such as you have never known, you will have no graves and no posterity, and as your capsules explode, you will hear the lamentations of your brothers and sisters meeting the same fate, all knowing that they died unmourned and unlamented.
I go now, to bravely do what no woman has ever done before, to scale the vast five inch heights and crawl bravely to my fate. To drink, to sleep, to sweat, and to rise triumphant over the forces of viral evil. This is to be human. To transcend is human! To survive is human! To mount the barricades and fight for a decent life is human!
"My guess is that it's because he has accurately assessed the chances of him getting any out of my viralized carcass, which are slim to none.)"
Funny how life works. When my better half feels punk, I'm outta luck. On the other hand, Migraine, broken arm, bad back, I'm on call.
Guess I wouldn't have it any other way.
But I think that forlorn hope is gone. This morning I crawled out of bed much improved, but he did not look too good. He has fled the domicile, and I'm lurking in wait for him. He has this theory that he can outrun a virus, but I don't agree. I'm going to have to capture him and tie him down for a day or two.
It does work!! It really does. I went to bed wearing a shirt and a sweatshirt plus heavy sweatpants, and with blankets heaped on the bed. This morning I emerged from my chrysalis nude, having kicked most of the blankets off the bed. The headache's gone, the bodyaches are gone, the sinus is mostly gone, and the sore throat/chest thing that was beginning is mostly gone. One more dose should do it. Hopefully this time I will not start singing. If I recall correctly, I worked my way through at least three national anthems last night. Maybe that's why he fled this morning.
He'll be back. The male urge to propagate will overwhelm pride, ego and yes, even bad singing.
I had a chance for a recon mission in lower Manhattan last night and passed. My squad was just returning(all men and material accounted for) as I was getting up for the Europe opening. I want to kick myself.
Sometimes I'm so glad I'm not. It's far more restful to be female. You just wiggle your finger and it comes running. We definitely got the better part of that deal.
....just trying to make myself feel better about my decision. There will be a next time.
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