Withdrawal and Love Apples

          Last night was my second non-Nyquil night. 

“The nighttime, sniffling, sneezing, aching, coughing, stuffy-head, fever, so you can rest medicine,” is magical stuff that, no matter how bad my cold, has the same impact on me that I imagine a large mallet over the head would. I took it for three nights last weekend and enjoyed an average of 9 hours of sleep each time.

          I enjoyed all those extra hours so much that on the fourth night – with no Nyquil – I felt as virtuous as if I’d put aside a long-time coke habit. And that night it took forever to fall asleep and I was awake by 6:00. Thankfully,  I’m now back to my normal 6 or 7 hours now. I can see, though, how people can become dependent on sleep aids.  

          The good news is that I’m an aberration in a family of addictive personalities. 10 years ago, after having a large chunk of my body trimmed off, I was prescribed oxycodone, and while I do remember it being a fairly dreamy period, I had plenty left over. I’m so non-addictive, my sister actually took me for Show-and-Tell to one of her AA meetings.

          And apropos of nothing, my morning walk today demonstrated one benefit of living here in our condo commune. A neighbor with serious gardening skills offered up some of her bounty, so I came home with tomatoes for tonight’s salad.