The fever and fervor of Andy Warhohl, Peter Max, Magic Elixir

Imagine my surprise, upon waking early Sunday, to find myself in a feverish state. No, I didn't overdo it on Halloween candy or drinks, or anything, really. Then I thought back to the previous two days, filled with driving and waiting (took Maeg to the City for her doctor's appointment) and waiting and driving in miserable traffic, cleaning, shopping, and remembering how even the coffeecake at Hobee's didn't taste right, although I forced myself to plow through the entire piece, bite by bite. Yep. I was sick. Darn it! My usual ploy of starting to feel like I am coming down with something and diving under the covers for 8 or 10 hours, after hastily gulping down a daily vitamin that I only remember to take when I'm feeling awful, to resurface a healthy person, actually didn't work this time. Dr. Mom's prognosis: bronchitis with a chaser of ear infection(s).

My young, handsome physician confirmed my diagnosis. He also told me I should take a few days off work, offering to write a note. I declined the need for a note. (How old am I?) The last time I took a sick day off was when my dad had a heart attack, a couple of years back. I don't DO sick time. Ever. However, since H1N1 has struck fear and loathing in the hearts of so many, I decided maybe the young, handsome doc was right. He also told me to feel free to take the cough medicine he was prescribing EVERY FOUR HOURS. Since I was hacking up fur balls at that point and fairly confident that I cracked at least one rib from coughing, I toddled home, antibiotics (he called them the "big guns"), cough medicine, and an inhaler in tow. I cracked open the magic elixir and took the prescribed amount, one teaspoon. Not tablespoon, mind you, teaspoon with a little "t". Really, just a dribble or a thimble full. How could a little thimble full of something be so powerful?

Wow! This combo of fever and codeine is amazing! My dreams are very, very vivid, and sometimes a little wild when I have a fever. While I almost always dream in technicolor, my dreams don't usually resemble a Peter Max poster or something Andy Warhohl would create. Except right now they do. They have circles in them. Many, many circles. About the size of a penny. Some are opaque, some are translucent, and some even unravel or uncoil themselves. I'm drifting around on a cloud, but the cloud tastes like icing or frosting on a cake. It's not sticky or yucky at all. Actually, it's very comfortable and pleasant. I'm not really flying (after all, it's not LSD, it's just cough medicine), but I'm not walking, either. Floating, really. How very civilized of me. No matter how many times I wake up, I continue to dream of circles, circles, circles.

I'm confident that the circles mean something, but I am having such a fabulous time, I don't really care what the meaning is. Just keep that magic elixir coming, baby.