2004-10-19 - 12:20 p.m.

I am sick. I am high on Nyquil. I am the walrus. Coo Coo Ka Choo.

Either that or I am going insane. I am incoherent. I know that much.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha.

It seems that little sinus thing from the flight home from Aruba is getting worse. On top of that, it’s a raw, rainy New England day and I just want to go home and wrap up in a blanket in front of the pellet stove and watch re-runs of Hogan’s Heroes and go to sleep.

"Klink, you idiot!"

But I can’t.

I got too much to get done around the office and I can’t get focused. My brain feels fuzzy. I’m not sure if it’s because of the sinus pressure, or the cold medicine or hangover from last night’s Nyquil binge. Mmmmmm Nyquil.

Focus

I am talking to a co-worker on the phone and all of a sudden I start listening to myself talk. It’s a strange sensation. There I am talking away about something fairly important to the success of the free world, and out of no where comes this little, flu infested, Nyquil voice starting an entirely different topic in my brain. It’s taking over my thoughts and I realize I can’t carry on a coherent phone conversation any longer. The Nyquil voice gets louder and starts to tell me that I am sounding like and idiot. I start to listen to myself talk on the phone. I agree. Nyquil voice is right. I’m a blabbering moron.

I noticed that the actual phone conversation is now just background noise as I mentally argue with Nyquil voice telling him to shut the fuck up. He doesn’t listen.

I need to get off the phone NOW. I grasp for a closing statement. You know the “I’ll send you and e-mail nd you tell me what you think…” kind of generic statement and I hang up quick. I put my head down on my desk and moan. I moan a little too loud. People in the hall shoot looks into my office. Great. They think I’m either rubbing one off or and about to die.

The 1:00 meeting should go well.

Cash Out - Another Round