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Nyquil scares me.  Terrifies me.  And I like it.

Friday found me in one of those three foot thick head cold fogs, the kind where everyone I talked to had to ask “Do you have a cold?”.  That’s when I blow my nose into a Kleenex, wad it into a sticky little white and booger green ball, and flick it at them.  I’m a nasty person when I get a cold, my natural tendency towards playful obnoxicity (that’s now a word) amplified by the irritation of my swollen sinuses.  Normally, I avoid over the counter remedies, instead choosing rest and fluids over drugs.  This time I relented after waking up Saturday morning in worse condition than I had Friday.

I tried Nyquil.  One capful of syrupy sweet Nyquil.

Five minutes later I found myself waking up wondering where the last ten hours had disappeared to.  I flicked away the powdery crust that now lined my nostrils, the drool from a totally knocked out night’s sleep caked at the corners of my mouth.  Nick the Sheltie, peacefully guarding the opposite side of the bed, snorted as a dry snot boulder bounced off of his nose.  A strange haze filtered through my brain, the kind that threatens to stick around the rest of the day.  That haze caused my to bounce off of the door jamb on the way to the bathroom for the necessary dawn tinkle, the wet warmth greeting my bare toes before I realized that the tinkle wasn’t streaming straight.

I know.  TMI.  Just trying to make this blog real for you.

Nick, still snorting from the booger cannon barrage, waited outside the door for me.  He was growing impatient.  His human was moving far too slow this morning.  The ritual on any given day was for me to stumble down the stairs to let him visit the back yard for his dawn tinkle.

The dang Nyquil had really thrown me for a loop.  Nothing knocks me out like Nyquil had done the night before and I was still feeling the effects.  I had barely made it upstairs to bed at ten the night before, the Nyquil taking me to slumber very quickly.  Morning’s light had not roused me like it usually does.  It was nearly 8 AM, almost two hours past my normal awakening.

My head was usable, however, clear and my breathing normal.  I could literally smell the coffee.  Ahhhhhh.

The cold was back by afternoon, not quite as strong but still back.  I had my energy, performed my chores.  Ten PM approached and I heard the siren’s call of the Nyquil from the rocks of our kitchen cabinets.  Drrrrriiiiiinkkkkk meeeeeeee.

OK, it wasn’t quite that dramatic.  Truth be told, the stuff tasted like candy to me.  I wanted some more.

Ten hours later, another crusty haze.

So last night, no Nyquil.  I freaking tossed and turned all night.

Uh oh.  Time for the 12 step program.  I have a monster and its name is Nyquil.