Recursively Speaking: DOTS!

I have been fighting a little bug over the past couple of weeks. I was finishing a deadline-critical project that involved some field-work, and so Thursday I pulled up my bootstraps and got ready to go. For extra measure, to make sure I was in the best possible condition for this important field-work which involved interviewing some individuals, I rummaged through my medicine drawer and pulled out a bottle of orange liquid. Whew! I actually had some of the daytime Tylenol Cold medicine! I swigged straight out of the bottle until I felt I'd had enough, and set the bottle down. At that point I noticed the tiny "Nitetime" logo on the label. "No, no, no, no, no!" I cried out.

I had a drive ahead of me, and figured if I could head out early enough, I might be able to beat the ensuing fatigue. I managed to get to the destination point without falling asleep at the wheel, and there met my colleague. We were given an office in which to conduct our business, and started to prepare for these important interviews while my head spun into a cobweb of cloudiness. My colleague had a conference call he needed to be on before we started the interviews, and so he suggested I take a brief doze to recover.

I sat in a chair and rested my head against the wall just long enough to doze off, at which moment a co-worker called my mobile phone to give me some information I had requested the previous day. I ate a handful of almonds and a fruit bar which seemed to help me work off the initial fog of the medication, and I was bright and ready to go by the time we were ready to interview. I managed to drag through Friday as well, but finally went to the doctor for antibiotics that afternoon.

Yesterday I spent recovering at home minus a trip to the store to buy some real daytime cold medicine. In an attempt to help me feel better, C suggested we go out for some ice cream. I suggested we just run to the local grocery store to pick up some dots and some lemon juice. We packed up in the car and I sat in the parking lot in my PJs, waiting for C to return with my beloved ice cream dots; you know, the ones you get at amusement parks? The tiny spheres of frozen ice cream that have a delightfully entertaining texture?

Apparently lemon juice is not an easy find for men. I, thinking he would return in five minutes, sat waiting...and waiting...and waiting. At last I thought, well, I could clean out the glove box, but then remembered that I already did that recently. Ah, there is the console box! I removed stray pieces of silverware, a large stack of receipts, plugged in the GPS to charge it, removed an empty migraine medication box, and a few other "Oh, that's where I left that!" items. Finally joining the tidy club with the glove box, C was still not back. Several minutes later, he emerged with a single sack in his hand, and placed the bag in the backseat. He opened the driver's door and handed me a large box... of DOTS!

I'd like to say this was the end, but just I stared at it and laughed. "Oh, I meant ice cream dots!" Without a moment's hesitation or a prickly glance, and before I could get the words out of my mouth ("But don't worry about it, honey!) He was off, and this time he really did come back in about five minutes while I mused over the fact that I have never, in ten years of marriage, purchased a box of Dots. We had a good laugh over that one. And that is the kind of man, as Dr. Laura would put it, that would swim through shark-infested waters to bring me a lemonade. What a trouper!

Apparently, while I was writing this, Kawi decided to create his own version of dots using the cork in the bottom of my nightstand coaster. While I appreciate his attempts at artistic freedom, in lieu of an image of an Avian Van Gogh, I am left to think, Tiny Puppy with wings.