I am typing this at 4;49 am, having treated my Chinese Sinus Torture with medicine and vertical therapy.  I don’t know whether to lie back down and see if I snooze or not. When this hits the scheduled publishing time – which I set because I was playing around with the options, being sort of bored – I will know if I did or not. I am beginning to suspect that sinus in the night and subsequent remedies can lead to mild zaniness. I may decide to try more inventive drainage head positions; a couple of times I have been so successful at this that I have had to twist kleenex into little pipe cleaner shaped things and stick them up my nostrils. That does have its social drawbacks but then who the heck is up at this time but me.

Were I of a younger generation, I might refer to the altered kleenex as nose tampons, but being my age, that is embarrassing – not as embarrassing as my idea to use straws taped to baggies as nose catheters, however. Mexican food and horseradish is an option . . .

Sometimes when I get like this, I wonder if my nutcase is starting to pinch me.

People (not me) worked  very hard getting the Apple Festival ready for this year, just as they have been doing for the past 25 years. And it is in the 70’s and foggy, with the weather.com predicting the fog conditions will remain until 3 pm. It is, by nature of being foggy, also humid. The sky is one shade of grey. It is not a cheerful day.

However, I have had some of my best times at the Apple Festival when the weather has not been optimal; for one thing, there is a great sense of authenticity – in the real life/real time sort of way.  The phenomenon is that you feel more cheerful and alive and participating when you aren’t nagged by a blasted “perfect” day that is demanding you match it and threatening  you with guilt feelings if you just automatically don’t.

In fact, I’m wondering if I can’t get someone here to go with me on this little adventure. A short hike over, a trip through the Swine Barn – God, I love that name – and maybe a mug of Bayou Billy CherryWine and a pretzel with cheese smothering it. This could be as good as the time it snowed and my feet were soooo cold through my leather soles as I munched my apple burger. Oh, by the way, we’ll be making a bunch at home, not to mention beef and noodles. The Brimfield Methodist folks sell it for a pretty penny a cupful – but, hey, my grandmother was a Methodist cook for 50+ years. Yes, AmeliaJake knows beef and noodles.

I woke to go to the bathroom around 1;30 this morning; I had guzzled lots of liquid and eaten no salty food to tell my body retain it. I guess that’s my story, but I don’t know if I’m sticking to it.

That’s not the story anyway; the real one – and it is short because it is only about 3:30 am now –  is that when I lay back down, I became aware of a slight throb behind the bridge of my nose. It wasn’t bad and it didn’t slowly start to pound; it just kept steadily throbbing. I have come to think of it as  Chinese Sinus Torture. So I got up and made myself some Cold Alka-Seltzer and drank it down . . . and then I took a little more medicine and am pushing the whole lot along with some caffeine, laced with sugar. (That would be The Cure, dontcha know?)

And I am sitting up to encourage what drainage their may be. My tear ducts are also feeling the pressure and it has occurred to me that crying would probably help, but of all things after writing a troubled post just a couple of days ago, I can’t conjure up any tears right now. Of course, I don’t want to fool around too much with the sad thought sinus therapy; I doubt it would be wise.

So, I wait to drain and for the analgesics to start acting – and I hope the play will be light-hearted and not some Tennessee Williams burden of drama. I don’t know, though, yelling Stella! might bring some atavistic relief.