If I feel like it.

Motivation keeps slipping out on me. Just when I think we’re making progress, he gets up and leaves. This week I planned on getting all the grading done for my second year class. Keyword being: planned. It’s Tuesday and I have yet to start. Eyes on the prize, right? Right! But that prize is a little hard to focus on when most of my body is covered with over 70 mosquito bites.

Did I stutter?

Yes, 70+.

Those d-bags really had their way with me then kicked me to the curb like I didn’t give them the best blood I could. Almost certain that at least one of seventy bites could lead to Malaria or Dengue, the first Monday morning task was: see a dermatologist.

Why is it that waiting in the doctor’s office is so much longer than the actual appointment?

I waited for about 30 minutes post routine procedures—taking blood pressure, weight, and allergies—when the doctor called my name, guided me to a room, looked at my battle wounds, and after 5 minutes was able to come to a conclusion: if I don’t experience random headaches or fever within the next week or so, I SHOULD be fine. 

Yeah, reassuring indeed. 

On the bright side, she hooked it up with some meds: Elomet* Cream (Mometasone Furoate), Startec (Cetirizine Dihydrocholride 10mg), and eight orange pills that shall remain nameless, not by choice but because, well…I don’t know it’s name nor it’s exact purpose. Wearing her white lab coat, she told me to take two tablets, twice a day. And so I did until they were no more. I’m sure if she told me to turn the dial, upping the electric voltage a person is shocked with, I’d probably do that too. (See: Stanley Milgram).

Anyway, pills got me sleeping like a baby, pushing grade inputting to next week?

If I feel like it.