clevermanka (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
clevermanka) wrote2008-09-26 09:10 am
clevermanka) wrote2008-09-26 09:10 am
Entry tags:
Blood, dream, and houses
Yesterday, half an hour before I was supposed to leave for the Union (location of the blood drive) pretty much all of KU's electricity got wiped out. For over thirty minutes. Gone! Wescoe in darkness. Boo.
I considered not donating until Friday but I didn't want to get stuck the day before a day out at faire. Especially a hot day at faire. And me with the ability to bruise like a grape, well...it was just best to go and hope for the best. All went well, and I beat my personal bag-filling record of seven minutes. Yesterday? Five minutes, twenty six seconds, baby. Yeah.
While sitting at the community table afterwards, I made the suggestion that perhaps they should stock the canteen area with non-wheat items. It wasn't a big deal for me because I've never needed something to eat after donating--the one instance where my constitution is apparently more robust than the average human being's. I'm fine with my glass of water and usually leave within ten minutes of getting out of the donor chair. But surely there are other gluten-sensitive souls out there who might like a little something to fortify themselves after losing ten percent of their blood supply.
When I got back to my desk I made myself a cup of cocoa. It was nice, but made me sleepy.
My arm was unusually sore afterwards. I don't remember that happening before. The phlebotomist put a lot of the needle in my vein, though. Seemed like more than normal. Today it's swollen and purple. I've got it bandaged with a cotton pad soaked in Green Oil. I don't want a big nasty bruise on my arm for the weekend. Also, my finger is bruised from the iron-test prick. Boo.
I went to bed last night at 9:15 and woke up at 7:00 this morning groggy and disoriented. The left side of my face feels a little full from sinus pressure. I have a sore throat (from drainage, maybe?). I hope this is allergies and not illness.
In the dream before my alarm went off, I was flying around my grandparent's house. I haven't flown in a long time. It's nice that I remember how! I was following a tiny spaceship that it had live people/aliens on it. They'd just completed a successful battle mission and I was following them around the house as they cleaned up the remaining enemy, or chased them off, or something. I wasn't sure exactly what was going on, which is why I was following. The ships were about the size of my torso.
My grandparents lived in one of those mid-20s style side-gabled bungalows where the floorplan was arranged so that you can walk around the interior of the home in a big circle, from kitchen to living room, to bed/bath hallway, back to kitchen, and so on. The single-story construction allowed for one giant support in the middle of the house and huge open living areas. I remember running around that center dividing wall when I was a little girl and feeling like it was almost magic, how I could move so quickly from room to room, all around the house. I loved that house. My parents and I always lived in two-story townhouse apartments or, later, ranch-style houses. Ranch houses are my second favorite style of house (just for the convenience, if nothing else). But oh, I would love to have that house in Terre Haute. Just not, you know, in Terre Haute.
Now I'm stuffy, tired, and maudlin. Or maybe melancholy, since I can still feel some bile rolling around in there.
I considered not donating until Friday but I didn't want to get stuck the day before a day out at faire. Especially a hot day at faire. And me with the ability to bruise like a grape, well...it was just best to go and hope for the best. All went well, and I beat my personal bag-filling record of seven minutes. Yesterday? Five minutes, twenty six seconds, baby. Yeah.
While sitting at the community table afterwards, I made the suggestion that perhaps they should stock the canteen area with non-wheat items. It wasn't a big deal for me because I've never needed something to eat after donating--the one instance where my constitution is apparently more robust than the average human being's. I'm fine with my glass of water and usually leave within ten minutes of getting out of the donor chair. But surely there are other gluten-sensitive souls out there who might like a little something to fortify themselves after losing ten percent of their blood supply.
When I got back to my desk I made myself a cup of cocoa. It was nice, but made me sleepy.
My arm was unusually sore afterwards. I don't remember that happening before. The phlebotomist put a lot of the needle in my vein, though. Seemed like more than normal. Today it's swollen and purple. I've got it bandaged with a cotton pad soaked in Green Oil. I don't want a big nasty bruise on my arm for the weekend. Also, my finger is bruised from the iron-test prick. Boo.
I went to bed last night at 9:15 and woke up at 7:00 this morning groggy and disoriented. The left side of my face feels a little full from sinus pressure. I have a sore throat (from drainage, maybe?). I hope this is allergies and not illness.
In the dream before my alarm went off, I was flying around my grandparent's house. I haven't flown in a long time. It's nice that I remember how! I was following a tiny spaceship that it had live people/aliens on it. They'd just completed a successful battle mission and I was following them around the house as they cleaned up the remaining enemy, or chased them off, or something. I wasn't sure exactly what was going on, which is why I was following. The ships were about the size of my torso.
My grandparents lived in one of those mid-20s style side-gabled bungalows where the floorplan was arranged so that you can walk around the interior of the home in a big circle, from kitchen to living room, to bed/bath hallway, back to kitchen, and so on. The single-story construction allowed for one giant support in the middle of the house and huge open living areas. I remember running around that center dividing wall when I was a little girl and feeling like it was almost magic, how I could move so quickly from room to room, all around the house. I loved that house. My parents and I always lived in two-story townhouse apartments or, later, ranch-style houses. Ranch houses are my second favorite style of house (just for the convenience, if nothing else). But oh, I would love to have that house in Terre Haute. Just not, you know, in Terre Haute.
Now I'm stuffy, tired, and maudlin. Or maybe melancholy, since I can still feel some bile rolling around in there.
no subject
It was amazingly cool, and easy to get lost in.