I'm sick.

I have a cough that erupts out of nowhere and can't be curbed. I went to a pharmacy and the pharmacist recommended Robitussin, which I bought and opened with my grubby hands and drank on 14th street. I thought I drank 2 teaspoons, but that's questionable. The pharmacist said it would provide immediate relief which it didn't, so I drank more at Mama's Food Shop. I swigged some more before I left, after eating an entire plate of green beans and fried chicken. So, basically, I had a mild to intermediate Robo-trip on the J train.



It increased with every stop, and by the time I got to Kosciuszko I thought I wouldn't even be able to pull my pants down and pee, which unfortunately, was not true because that would make for a much better story. I got into the apartment and fed Rhonda, the loft pitbull. We sat on the couch and I managed to pull off my boots and finish off the remains of two bottled waters, set my alarm for an hour, and promise her that after our nap we'd go for a walk and she could poop. I did all this and more.

Sometimes the coughing - especially when I'm on the train during rush hour - turns violent and I have to cough into my sleeve and hold my breath until my eyes water and I can't hold it any longer, and then wince and cough into my other sleeve. Acknowledging that "I'm coughing and I hate it" is really important when I'm around a lot of people. Like, "Damn, This Really Sucks Hard, Sorry You Have To Witness, Feel For Me". I try to look like I need to be taken care of but that I'm gonna suck it up and take care of myself. It makes people feel hopeful for me and distracts them from the germs I'm practically painting all over their iPods. I pop a cough drop with my free hand and hope that no one sees the dirt under my fingers - dirty hands make it seem like, instead of "doing" something with my hands, I'm merely pawing at things. Sick sucks.