Med rage

It was a strange and not very restful weekend.

Saturday evening, another ugly cold kicked in. I woke up in the night streaming from every facial orifice -- even my eyes. My eyes! God help me.

Naturally, I woke Mr Berman to tell him how miserable I was. Not sure whether he said "poor sod" or "sod off"; suspect the latter. He did manage to mumble that I should add pillows, which I did, for a fitful night's sleep.

Sunday morning, he'd had quite enough of my whining, and strongly urged me to take an Aleve 12-Hour Cold and Flu. In a moment of weakness, I agreed.

I should know better.

The last time I took it was 5 years ago, minutes before a pitch. I spent the next two hours bouncing off the walls, in what the clients mistakenly believed to be a frenzied display of enthusiasm. I have never felt so out of control in my life. I nearly swallowed my own teeth.

So it was with some trepidation that I gulped down my meds yesterday morning. Within 15 minutes, I knew it was a mistake. My legs shook, my hands shook, my heart shook, for close on 12 hours. Ozzy Osbourne at 80 will be in better shape than I was.

What took me by surprise was the rage.

Mr Berman had headed out for groceries with unexpected eagerness, leaving me to my jitters. As is usually the case, he called me several times from the store to make sure he was buying the right kind of rice/bread/endive. But every time the phone rang, I jumped like I'd been shot.

"I can't find Belgian endives."
"What about curly endive?"
"They don't have that either."
"I bet they have fricking iceberg. Philistines."

I have never been quite so angry about endives, Belgian or otherwise, in my life.

The day continued in much the same vein. I stomped about, scowled in a menacing fashion, and silently fumed about iceberg lettuce, erasers, raincoats, whatever. The boys thought it hysterical, and followed Mr Berman's lead in calling me an Old Bag.

As I pointed out repeatedly in an unsuccessful quest for sympathy, it wasn't me, it was my meds. My pharmacological version of the Twinkie defense.