An unlikely topic for praise

Since I've been spending a lot of time whining and complaining, I'll switch to an optimistic subject for a change. I had my annual exam with the gynecologist yesterday, and I have to say it was one of the best visits I've had.

The exam itself was not especially fun. In fact, it was painful enough for me to believe that I've revirginated. That's a bit depressing, BUT the good parts included: 1) the nurse acted very surprised when I said I was 33--and I mean surprised in the good, "I thought you were 20," kind of way; 2) I haven't gained any weight; and 3) I'm going to get the HPV vaccine in January. Because really, why worry about cervical cancer if you don't have to?

I had to catch up the doctor on my various little health adventures of the year--thyroid biopsies and intestinal scans. But the conclusion was, "actually, everything is fine now." It made me remember I thought the pain in my abdomen a few months ago would never go away. And here I am, healthy as ever--except for the current bronchitis.

All in all, life is good.

A high pricy to pay for sexy

I had my first cold in a couple years last month, and now I seem to have bronchitis. It's been about three years since I last got it, but I remember the hell it was last time. I kept thinking I was well and trying to do well-person things, and that infection kicked my ass for a month or more.

So this time I'm trying to be smart. I did go to a work happy hour on Friday (the lure of beer and some of my favorite people were too much to resist), but I've been all business since then. The trick is not talking. My voice is basically sandpaper right now, and more than a few sentences at a time can set you back for days.

That was my mistake last time I had bronchitis. Sure, it sounds kind of sexy, or at least amusing, to have a husky voice. But coughing up phlegm for a month is a high price to pay for sexy.

So, It's 5:47, and I'm sitting up because, in the latest twist of my illness, my head is a solid mass, like someone poured concreted into my sinuses. When I blow my nose, it squeaks out my eyes and all that.

Also, it's been raining hard for about four hours. Who knew there could even be that much water available? It sounds like someone taking a shower in the next room.

Holiday plans:

1) Stop coughing so I can bake insanely decadent chocolate cookies to give away at work.
2) Clear sinuses in preparation for plane ride barely a week away.
3) Plan New Year's party, the theme of which is "fire, music, vodka shots."
4) Avoid freezing to death in my cold, manless bed.

Monday amusement

Since it's a Monday, I'm in extra-special need of amusement. Luckily, my needs are simple. And so, when I discovered that there's a journal called Conradiana, devoted to all things Joseph Conrad, I smiled, if only inwardly. It seemed like a Conradian thing to do.

The holidays have me a bit befuddled, what can I say? I have the highest threshold for family togetherness of anyone I know, but I reached my limit shortly before Thanksgiving. Also, there's this whole issue with lack of sunlight. It's difficult not to be bitter that I spend precious daylight hours in a little rabbit hole of an office (not windowless, thankfully) doing work I could just as well do in the dark. If I stayed up all night. Which would mean I still wouldn't enjoy the sunlight.

Back to the holidays--they give me frenetic energy that ends with a bit of a depressing letdown. Something about the sameness of every year makes me a little frantic. On one hand the sameness is stultifying; on the other hand, the alternative (say, celebrating holidays after my parents are gone) is horrifying. At least we've mitigated some of the sameness. These days, we all go down to Florida for Christmas. We grill burgers and usually head down to the beach for sunset.

So I'm becoming a humbug. I did think of one holiday treat that gives me comfort and joy, as the song says. It's the ubiquitousness of glitter. Glitter gets on everything, and it's sneaky. You might walk around all day with a piece of glitter on your forehead. You can't feel it, it's nearly impossible to wipe off, and no one is going to tell you it's on your face.

Imagine you're in a meeting with the president of your organization, and he's unaware of a sparkly purple dot on his nose. Oh, the hilarity. This holiday season, I'm making it my mission to spread glittery flare to as many people as possible.