It's the twenty-sixth mile of a marathon. It's when your husband wipes your brow, focuses his gaze on your strained eyes as you labor in the hospital bed, and encourages you to keep pushing.
It's finals week. So close to being finished, just not quite there.
Slightly dampening my ability to navigate the stacks of final student essays and e-Portfolios with coherence and fortitude is one key issue: I've been walloped with the mother of all colds. It's downright ungodly.
The sinus pressure alone brings tears, but the coughing, the aches, the excessive use of Kleenex, and the pink eye (yes, I've contracted conjunctivitis) makes me want to sleep for two straight days. Or, if I were a celebrity, to admit myself into the hospital and treated for exhaustion so I could still sleep for two straight days but also be the recipient of food wheeled on a cart directly to me, food that I didn't need to prepare myself.
And when a girl thinks hospital food sounds like a good option, she's in need of some help.
That being said, there's no better help for cloudy-headed misery than deep laughter, and this blog post did just that. I laughed. I coughed. I laughed. I coughed. It moved me, really.
It's an older piece that I read quite some time ago, but one entirely worth revisiting. The title alone had me at hello. Really, you've got to read this, and take her advice -- don't skip the video, which is like a train wreck. You simply cannot look away.