BACKLASH


I've spent my first two weeks back from India running around like a chicken with its head cut off:


--Teaching 23 classes

--Meeting two deadlines

--Recording a radio essay on how to survive the summer

--Gaping dumbfoundedly at the sweaty suburban mob gathered see the Tall Ships at Navy Pier and wondering, "Why?"

--Dealing with two months of mail

--Catching up with friends

--Catching up with Denis Leary (still hot) and "Rescue Me"

--Attending my nephew's wedding fete

--Searching for rednecks in Wonder Lake

--Weathering a heat wave

--Installing three air conditioners

--Losing and reinstating a health club teaching gig

--Filling out paperwork

--Turning 42

--Practicing a dozen times (and not standing up from backbend even once)

--Sorting through and posting over 200 Mysore photos*

--Freezing through "The Devil Wears Prada"

--Drumming up new business

--Researching and purchasing a (hideously shiny, new, comfortable, slow, sensible, upright, orange) commuter bicycle that hopefully won't cause neck, shoulder and back pain

--Etc.





Funny how the body forces you to slow down even as your mind tries to make you keep going.....

Despite going to bed at 10 last night it all caught up with me today in the form of THe WOrst HeadAche oF tHe DecAde. It began in the middle of the night and got worse and worse and worse, to the point where I had to run to the toilet with dry heaves -- several times. A full dose of sinus medication did not cure it. Caffeine did nothing. The liberal application of China Gel to the temples, neck and Third Eye only made the bedsheets smell bad. Gallons of water did not alleviate the pain. Nor did blowing the nose. Trying to sleep made the whole head throb like the engine of a past-its-prime Bajaj auto-rickshaw. Sitting propped up on pillows like the Elephant Man partially remedied the throbbing, but was not conducive to sleep. Nor was watching Nicole and Paris prance around with midgets and a closeted father of five in two episodes of "The Simple Life." Finally I consumed an old migraine cure -- organic, free-range "vegetarian" y'eggs with spinach and feta -- and went back to sleep.

The protein bomb more or less worked; I awakened well enough to write this and yearn some more to go back to Mysore, but not to change the sheets or litter box or catch up on deadlines or post my Mysore videos or even practice.

The good news is that some of the apartments in my courtyard building changed hands in my absence. Neck Tattoo is long gone, and one of my new neighbors is listening to vintage Cocteau Twins at this very moment. Not exactly the Muzza's call to Mosque, but not Phil Collins, either. Definitely a step in the right direction....



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*If you would like a link to the Mysore photo album, e-mail chaigirl@india.com and she might just send it to you.