Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works from Elan.Works, a designer and editor at GenderAvenger, and a speaker who has spoken across North America. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.

Droning On About a Cloud and Allergies

Since I do so like the lists, and one hundred things is really quite a lot to accomplish listing, I am directing you back one entry to "One Hundred Things In A List In No Apparent Order Revisited", if you have not already read it.

It is Friday at long last! This week was one of those very long weeks. The kind that starts out decently enough on Monday morning, acting as though it could be any other week. It wasn't, but it should win an Oscar for its I-am-like-any-other-week-and-not-at-all-evil performance on Monday morning. It was quite impressive. I am a cynical sort of person, and I bought the act hook, line, and sinker.

So, I entered this week smilingly enough, having had a thoroughly relaxing weekend. The long-range weather forecast promised something more in the line of spring, my paycheque was in the bank, and none of my bosses were going to be in to work until Thursday. I was free and rich and less weather-oppressed, and I was going to enjoy each moment.

Oh, if only the future were equipped with rear view mirrors so that we could look at where we are now with some clarity, even if everything appeared smaller than it actually is.

On Monday morning, all looked good, and it was good, until a grey little cloud wrapped itself around my shoulders like a stole at approximately 10:00 am. I don't know where he came from, but he seemed to take an immediate liking to me, which is probably why he hung around until Thursday. He wasn't a serious problem, but he made me feel slouchy and foot-draggy and unmotivated. I would have given him a swift kick in the shins if he hadn't been so awkwardly high on my neck (and if he had had shins).

That's all the evil that Monday had for me, some slouchiness that was a little ennui-esque. It's Tuesday that lay in sinister wait for me in the kitchen area at work.

On Tuesday, the janitorial staff clean, waxed, and buffed our kitchen and bathroom floors to a high polish. Everyone in the office enjoyed the gleaming floors but me. I, on the other hand, developed swollen eyes the rich, red colour of sockeye salmon and squinted through stinging irritation at the source of my torment. Whatever vile chemicals they use to rejuvinate the flooring wreak havoc with my immune system.

By Wednesday afternoon, several of my co-workers had asked me if I needed to talk, so pathetic did I look. Have you been crying? they would ask. It was embarrassing. No, I would answer, but they would look unconvinced. Remember, the red and puffy eyes accompanied the weighty cloud stole around my shoulders, so my appearance was waxing tragic.

On Thursday, I started carrying around a bottle of Visine Allergy eye drops by way of explanation. If one of my co-workers looked at me in any sort of sympathetic manner, I held up the bottle and shook it a little next to my head. Obviously, the eye drops were not completely correcting the allergic reaction I was having, but it did stifle it enough to allow me to look at my computer screen for brief periods.

Thursday evening was a breaking point for me. The slouchiness and the pain of having eyes and some other ridiculousnesses that are likely more interesting than my allergies but that I will not get into today drove me to a gourging on pizza and bread sticks dipped in ranch dressing that left me in a fat-induced stupor the likes of which I have not seen for many a moon. Lo, and it was good, and I did fall into a heavy sleep, and the Fiery One did escort me to bed and undress me, such was my exhaustion.

Today is Friday, and the sun was out this morning to help me get over the facts that I had stabbed myself in one of my suffering eyes with a mascara brush and that I had missed my first bus to work when I discovered that my wallet containing my bus pass was not in my purse. Another floor was buffed this morning at work, and so the eyes issue is a stinging and burning and puffy pain in the ass like the first time around. This isn't bothering me so much, though, as the cloud stole shuffled off some time during the night, and I haven't heard from or seen it since last night.

Yes, I still do have the eye-stabbing pain, and I have a bout of filing to look forward to this afternoon, but the triple crown of it being Friday and losing the slouchiness and seeing sunshine has lifted my spirits. The spirits, they have gone from oh-so-low to oh-so-high, and I am a relievéd creature, I am.

Oh, except for one thing, because all things must be balanced: I think my love affair with feta cheese has gone a bit cold. It dims my bulb ever so slightly.

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"The Clouded Morning" by Jones Very

And lastly, I would like to take a brief moment to point out that a mere ONE of you has completed the referral process required for me to get a free iPod. Please forgive my tacky asking and help me out post haste.

One Hundred Things In A List In No Apparent Order Revisited