It’s official. I’m sick.
I know this because my coworkers have replaced the “Illin'” post-it on my cubicle with the “Moderately Ill” post-it. It’s the lack of sleep and extended travel. Gets me every single time.
I’ve got less than two weeks to get my immune system together before World Fantasy Con, which immediately precedes my last business trip of the year. Oddly enough, on Halloween of last year I was on a plane returning from a wedding in Baltimore. And on Halloween this year, I will be on a plane to Chicago.
I hate that I’m sick right now. I just want to sit and write and keep that motivation/inspiration from VP going, but my body says, “NAP. DRINK FLUIDS. CARE FOR YOUR MUCOUS MEMBRANES. NAP MOAR.” So I spend all day at work trying to focus on one e-mail at a time and not fall asleep, all of my commute home trying not to fall asleep or smoke too many cigarettes, and all evening napping between twitter/e-mail squeegasms.
And there is nothing that feels normal – not a single thing. Not my apartment, not my car, not my boyfriend… It’s a peculiar feeling, not unlike what I imagine Capgras Syndrome to be like, except I’m the doppleganger that’s been plopped down into this other Kelly’s existence. I’m surprised no one has noticed yet, though they could just be being polite.
This is not my beautiful house…
This is not my beautiful wife…
I have a feeling everything will right itself after I can slough this crud from my system through a devious strategy of Vitamin C and hot tea with honey.
The good thing is, so long as this persists, I don’t have to worry about finding a costume for Halloween. This Kelly-within-a-Kelly thing seems adequate enough.