But holy hell, once again I am within 48 hours of getting on a plane to PHX and I am in the midst of the galloping crud. Granted, I should have seen it coming, as I have been spacey as all get out this week – seriously, since about 2PM Tuesday, I couldn’t have told you what day of the week it was without consulting a calendar.* This is invariably the precursor to a cold/sinus infection for me, but I never recognize it until it’s too late.
The overly rational part of my brain chalks it all up to unfortunate coincidence and the ridiculous changing of the barometric pressure at this time of year. The not-quite-as-rational part of my brain says, “Going to PHX is bad for you!” The smartest part of my existence which isn’t even attached to me says – “It’s the anxiety leading up to the trip that does you in.” That smart part would be my brother trying to assure me I’ve not totally lost my mind. (If you don’t have a brother to help you out in matters such as these, I highly recommend you get one. I’m pretty sure there is a category on Craigslist for this.)
Seriously, I can’t remember the last time that I wasn’t sick either when my grandmother visited here, or I visited there. (Same thing has happened to my brother as well.) Invariably this has lead to my grandmother being more than happy to tell us that we were weak, lazy & pathetic and got sick on purpose just to get attention. Yes, because I’d so much rather feel like total crap and have people saying, “Would you like a Ginger Ale?” than just happily going about my business without desperately needing to sleep for 24 hours straight.
Damned if I know why my body decides to betray me this way, but I’m very much over it all. Seriously, I’m staying at a nice hotel with a pool and everything – I’d like to take advantage of it rather than sleep every hour I’m not at the care center…
*No matter how broken my grandmother’s brain may be, I never have and never will fault her for not knowing the date or day of the week without looking at the calendar.