Letters to parties unlikely to respond.*

Dear effects of generic nighttime cold medicine,

I only looked brefily at your label before downing an "adult sized" dosage an hour and a half ago in hopes that your "nighttime" label would serve me well.

Sadly, I seem to be mistaken.

Your comforting blue label, decorated with with an exagerrated crescent moon and small, five pointed stars lulled me into thinking that somehow, even with a known stimulant listed among your active ingredients, my body could be hoodwinked into blissfull, recuperative slumber. Somehow I thought that the twitchy presence of pesudoephedrine hydrochloride would just evaporate away and that, as the box reassures me, I would "Rest Easy".

Instead, I find myself up past midnight in a strange, zombielike existence. My mind is completely alert and my limbs really dislike doing much of anything.

Also, I have cottonmouth.

(In due fairness, I will take a breif opportunity to say that all the other claims of your effectiveness also seem to be present, and perhaps I should not take the even blissfully temporary absence of my rib-bruising cough and skull-crushing sinus pressure lightly- but please know I'd still like some sleep.)

Side effects of generic nighttime cold medicine, you suck.

Humbly yours,

Spacebug

*Probably not worthy of McSweeny's, but please take into account the state of mind.

Back at it.

Not quite firing on all cylinders, but a marked improvement over yesterday.
Back at work. I'm enjoying the gray day. Seems to suit me today, me and my cozy gray hoodie and my (hopefully) retreating illness.
It was nice to spend what part of my day I was awake for with S4. I wasn't really up for band practice last night, but S4 and I managed to hit the dollar theatre for extra-cheap Tuesday. On a complete whim, we saw National Treaure. It was about worth what we paid for it. Not the most awful movie I've ever seen ever, but pretty darn bad. But it was brainless and fun and a lot of stuff blew up, and I do really like cheesy conspiracy theory stuff. And it cost a dollar. Can't beat that with a stick.

mmmm, thunder.