Fie.

I went into the weekend looking forward to some uninterrupted sleep and a bit of socializing.

But in the transition from Friday to Saturday, my throat swelled up and I became a sneezing machine. "Ach, just allergies," I convinced myself. But as I hitched a ride with another actor to a rehearsal for the radio show Saturday morning, I must admit that there was a tiny bit of head fogginess and exhaustion denoting a breach in my immune system bigger than just some sinus irritation from pollens or dust or what-have-you.

The sinus meds and ginger ale did their job, though, and I was in okay enough voice during the rehearsal to send my fellow actors into gales of laughter with Story Lady. It really helped to have Lex on the keys, giving chimey music box piano underscoring to the script - he does improv/comedy shows a lot, and we slipped right into a perfect give-and-take of text and whimsical trills that just about blew everyone away. It was very satisfying. But oh, I was so tired. So, so tired.

I hitched a ride up past Harlem-Irving Plaza to this tiny (apparently legendary) video game store, where I met up with ubersaurus and spent most of the rest of the day hanging out with him. I am still feeling sort of chagrined because I was so totally out of it - I had spent the previous night waking up every hour or so, and with this cold clamping down on my head, and worrying about being in voice for the performance the next day, I am sure I was scattered and boring beyond belief. It was very nice of him to write that he had a nice time, though, for really, who can argue with sundaes at Margie's and mock-worthy action flicks like Mission Impossible III?

We also hung out at my place for a little while, where I tried desperately to hold on to any personality I had left, as I was feeling more and more congested and 'wrong' with every quarter hour. We ordered some Leona's, where some spinach ravioli restored a bit of strength to me so that we could watch some Red vs. Blue, which Yuberus had never, ever seen. "Now," I said, "You will know why a bunch of us say the things we do during Halo! You know who Sheila is! And blue spiders! Nobody likes you!" Because the bus stops running at a stupidly-early hour on my street, we played phone tag with at least 3 cab companies before finally getting the poor boy a ride back to the Blue Line. I am starting to feel more and more frustration with a lack of car, I think. About a half hour after even his long-awaited cab arrived, I got another call on my cell from Wolley: "Your cab has arrived."

"I don't need it anymore, sorry."

And then, I think I collapsed.

I negotiated with Squeaky through a series of cuddly gestures and lots of scritchies to let me sleep in a while the next morning, and then I barely managed to be ready in time to hitch another ride to the performance - which went pretty well. My voice was at about 89%, I'd say, which was annoying, but certainly a much better facade than what was going on inside my head, which was mucus, mucus, and more mucus.

I had to call in sick to work today. I am freaking wiped out, and I have probably used an entire box of tissues in the past few days alone. Sleeping includes lots of drooling, which is incredibly sexy. I am literally unable to do anything except sit here like a lump, or maybe occasionally shuffle into the kitchen for sustenance. The thought of actually making it into the shower and then regular street clothes to walk down the block just to get some ice cream for my throat makes me want to cry, I am so tired.

Ugh.