When I walked through the door at home last night I was pretty strung-out. I caught a pretty harsh cold at Comic-Con, and self-medicated for the eleven-hour drive from San Diego to Orem.
I left San Diego at 8:20am and got home at 8:45pm, one time-zone later. I made pretty good time, stopping in Barstow, CA for gas and food, Primm, NV for a nap at poolside at Whiskey Pete’s, and St. George for gas and food.
But that’s not the strung-out bit.
Have you ever tried those little two-ounce energy drinks? They’re loaded with caffeine and other stuff, and claim to offer five hours of no-crash-afterwards energy. Well, for my eleven hours of “pretend you’re not sick” I took four of those things, 2000 mg of tylenol, and four pseudoephedrine.
I was alert, I wasn’t jittery, and though I could tell I was sick I actually felt like I was on the mend.
Then I walked through the door and it was like somebody cut the strings. Twelve hours of pent-up jitters arrived all at once as my body said “it’s time to lie down.” So I added MORE chemistry, threw back some Nyquil, and slept like a fresh corpse.
Today I’m convalescing, which is very boring. I’ve had a couple of small, soda-can doses of caffeine in order to prevent a decaffeination headache, and I’ve slept a lot. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be better, because in less than a week Sandra and I are driving to WorldCon in Denver, and I’ve got a lot of work to do between now and then.