Night and Day

It's exam week and mine are both tomorrow, so it's been pretty low key. I've had some office hours, but not the same stress level as usual. The best part is that I didn't have to be on the early train these last two days. But that also means I stay up later and somehow manage to get less sleep. This morning when I woke up, I had a slight tickle in my throat. With the changing weather and the end of the term, it's time to get sick and I thought I'd take a preemptive approach with some Dayquil. I grabbed the box, popped two, showered and headed off to the train. On my morning commute I usually do a little puzzle on my iPod or some grading. Today I could not keep my head up. My eyes were so heavy and my body felt super sluggish. The rocking motion of the train didn't help and I dropped off minutes after we left the station. The ride is about an hour. I slept the entire way and nearly missed my stop. When I stumbled off in Naperville, it was windy, rainy and cold. I decided to walk the long way hoping the cold would shock me awake. However, due to poor decision making in regards to footwear, my toes we soon very unhappy.

As I came into my building, I ran into one of the psych. professors. I enjoy talking to this person. He's nice. But it wasn't the ideal moment to run into him...see previous post. He asked about the train ride and my exams and the end of the term. But my brain would not process the simple questions and all I could manage was, “Both tomorrow...need it to stop...yours?” We talked for a few minutes but I don't recall the rest of the conversation. As I entered the stairwell, I started laughing at my own lack of coherence and said aloud, “What is wrong with you?” In my office I sat down and pulled out the box of Dayquil only to find that I had grabbed the box of Niquil by mistake!!

Then it turned funny. I had thought I was getting really sick, but no, just drowsy from the mistaken medicine. During office hours a few students showed up and it was comical at best. I couldn't finish my sentences and eventually apologized for my stuttering. They laughed at my mistake and we started a new. After office hours I had a two break before my next stint and sat in my chair with my head slumped against my chest and Les Miserables playing on Youtube. I started feeling more aware by 2 but another two hours with students and I was back in my stupor.

For the walk home, I decided it would be best to wrap my feet in plastic before inserting them into my shoes. The logic was that the plastic should keep the water off, though they would still be cold. I wrapped tape around the plastic to keep it from slipping and off I went. I slept on the train ride home, though not as deeply as the morning trip. When I left the train I had forgotten about the plastic and the tape but it had come undone. Union station was pretty busy and I didn't want to take the plastic off where anyone else could see so I tried the bathroom. The line was pretty long there, so I figured it could wait until I got home. As I was leaving the station, I decided to stop by the CVS for some supplies, but at the top of the stairs I noticed one of the pieces of plastic was really sticking out of the shoe. Once I got outside, I crouched down next to the building in a dry patch and took my shoes off to remove the plastic. As I was doing this a man walked over to me. He was clearly homeless and asked for some money. I don't carry cash but always feel bad saying that I don't have any. However, when he saw what I was doing, he just said, “I have to wrap plastic around my feet too,” and walked away. I guess I don't know enough about the homeless, but I accepted his grace and headed off to the drugstore.

Here I met a second homeless fellow. He held the door open as I entered but didn't say anything. I was glad. I got my stuff (microwavable soup in a sip-able can!) and headed back out. As I exited, he held the door again, but this time, “Spare some change?” I responded with my regular no cash line and he said, “Man, I held the door for you!” I wanted to say something along the lines of, “This isn't a job. You can't get paid for being polite,” but I refrained. Instead I said, “Do you wrap plastic around your feet?” I blame this on the lingering effects of the Niquil, but after my previous encounter ended so pleasantly I thought that maybe plastic on feet was some kind of secret code among the homeless. It is not. He said, “What? Can I get some change?” Having nothing else to offer, I replied, “All I have is some microwavable soup...but I'm guessing you don't have a microwave.”