Wednesday, March 16, 2011

The Destruction of Cafe 305 and its Author

Last Wednesday night, I didn't feel quite right, so I went to the doctor Thursday morning. After torturing me with her evil scales, which are forty pounds high, she put me on a course of antibiotics.

The antibiotic bottle label.
Within 12 hours of taking the first "antibiotic", I was running a low grade fever, had chills, and was nauseous as all get-out. I thought "Wow. Well, apparently this infection thing was worse than I realized."

But then, after another 24 hours, the original symptoms disappeared. Unfortunately, the fever and nausea didn't. By then, we were at the weekend, and the doctor's office was closed.

Coincidence? I think not.

These "antibiotics" are in a black capsule.

You know that Ingrid Bergman movie, Notorious? Where Claude Raines and his wicked mother are Nazi sympathizers and she's a spy and they find out and they try to poison her, but then of course Cary Grant swoops in at the last minute and rescues her?

I totally look this gorgeous when I'm sick. Pootie is so lucky.

That was almost exactly what happened to me! Except I had to haul my own damned self back to the doctor so they could humiliate me by making me wear a Michael Jackson face mask in the waiting room and some little kid stared at me so I stuck my tongue out at her, except she couldn't see it because I was wearing that stupid mask. When I finally got in there, I said "Are you trying to kill me, or what???" Except it came out "RRFFfm ur rensen ore ree enreh wfff??" because of that stupid face mask that was smothering me. Completely busted, she told me to go off the antibiotics - that they were probably causing the fever and nausea. Except it came out more like "Drat! She ees on to us! Abort meeshun!"

My doctor looks just like the chick on the right.

Needless to say, since I've been being poisoned for almost a week, I haven't felt like cooking, consuming, or even looking at food much. And anyway, this is the kitchen's current status.

That's right, kids. It's on.

This is the sad state of my dining room. It's just depressing.

Seriously, I'm kind of "tidy". OK, fine, I'm kind of a control freak. So this is difficult for me. I find myself closing my eyes and rubbing my face a lot.

Good lord.
But as of today, it has begun. The actual gutting of the kitchen. I had really hoped they'd let me take a sledgehammer to one particular drawer - like those guys destroyed that printer in Office Space - but in my frail and weakened state, it just wouldn't be the same.

Hopefully my doctor's evil plan was thwarted soon enough and I'll live to see the completion of the kitchen. Right now I still don't much care about having the ability to prepare food. Ugh.

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