I know I should be working, but ...

"When I'm out walkin' I strut my stuff and I'm so strung out ... I'm high as a kite I just might stop to check you out."
-- "Blister in the Sun" by Violent Femmes

I'm so strung out on the DayQuil that I can't focus. I start to do something, and then I look at the clock, and then I'll flip through my iTunes, read TMZ.com, look at the New York Post online ... I'm a trainwreck.

A trainwreck just a couple of short hours away from from a weekend spent on her couch.

"Just because we A-rabs, girl, don't mean we's kin."
-- George, when asked if he was related to another guy from Charleston who also is Lebanese

My left nostril is all red and painful from the constant runniness. And sneezing.

I'm on the phone with Julie now. Talking to her and listening to her stresses and thinking about the stress I've had lately, I am quite convinced that the solution to all of our problems could be found in a road trip like we took a couple of weeks back. Earlier in the week we were talking about how much fun we had in Harrisburg, Hershey and Johnstown.

The Firehouse, McGrath's, Johnnie's, Zembie's, the Chiefs, the freakin' Hershey Bears, Chocolate World -- all of it. I'd say the only part of that trip that sucked was the Turnpike, but as I drove away that night, I didn't even mind the Turnpike that time. It's not all that bad.

I also am way overdue for a trip to Richmond. Paige tells me there's a BW3 literally in staggering distance of her house, and this pleases me. :) I think the next time I'm up to hitting the road for a few days, there are going to be lots of wings and trivia involved. And Ikea, even though I doubt I could fit any of it in the Camry.

And really, is it February yet? I've got Groundhog Day, my birthday (which it's never, ever too early to start your planning for), the Foo in Philly followed by a weekend with Angie where we'll see things like the Museum of Medical Oddities ... I can't wait. All of January is just going to suck my will to live because I'm going to be waiting for February to get here.

OK, I've got to get back to work. I wanna go wrap up in my woobie on my couch and stay there until around noon on Sunday.

OK, common cold. You win.

(DayQuil -- fighter of the NyQuil! Champion of the sun!)

Nightman: What's wrong with you? You sound like hell.
Me: Oh, I'm fine. I'm not sick. I just can't breathe.
Nightman: You call a doctor yet?
Me: No! I'm not SICK. I just can't breathe.
Nightman: I don't know, Jacque. To me, "not being able to breathe" is something worth seeing a doctor about.

Monday is my cutoff. If I still can't breathe by Monday, I'm finally sucking it up and calling the doctor, where I'll lose $20 and about four hours of my time for her to see me for three minutes and write me a prescription.

I thought I was coming out of it, but in the last couple of days, my breathing capacity has severely diminished. And I'm back to the DayQuil and NyQuil. In a moment of genius yesterday, I became convinced I had allergies and went out and bought Claritin.

I'm clearly not a doctor.

Maybe it's stress. Maybe it's just the lack of an idle weekend at home. I traveled for something like four weeks straight -- Cincinnati, New Martinsville, Harrisburg, Hershey, Morgantown -- and although each of those trips were fantastic and fun, it didn't leave much time for rest with a cold that developed BEFORE I went to Cincinnati.

This weekend I've "grounded" myself. I'm not going out unless it's necessary, except for the gym. I know, I probably shouldn't even be working out, but I'm on a good streak lately and I feel bad when I miss it. And I love my gym. If you're one of my Charleston readers and you want a gym that you'll be in love with, I suggest Capitol Fitness. I giant heart how it's got great Pilates classes and it's never crowded. It also smells really nice, which was quite different than what I experienced at the Y on Tuesday night. Ick.

So, the grounding begins. I'm going to spend it on my couch watching movies in glorious high-definition quality and working on my show.

Speaking of my show, some very, very exciting new developments are in the works and it's HUGE! I don't want to talk a whole lot about it right now for fear of jinxing it, but it's VERY good and we're beside ourselves. Or, as co-host Jeff would say, we're "shitting rainbows."

Or, like my favorite Demotivator says: "Teamwork: A few harmless flakes working together can unleash an avalanche of destruction."

But now, I go fight the post office. Again. I f-ing lost a roll of stamps, and I'm still mad about it because I'd used TWO. That's $41.00 right out the window. Gah!!

Is there such thing as a "super strain"?

I told Julie that I think I got some sort of super strain of cold because my trusted ally, NyQuil, isn't even helping me now. NyQuil is powerless against this cold.

I can't breathe. No matter what I do, I can't breathe. It's just not happening. I've got so much to do before I head out for Thanksgiving it's unreal, and here I type at 6:30 p.m. about to take a shower and go to bed so I can make it into work tomorrow.

I didn't work today. This might be my first sick day since I got my wisdom teeth out in 2005. I couldn't do it. I thought I could go in at noon, and I couldn't. I'm tired and weak now from putting on a hat to go to the store for cat food so my animal doesn't starve. Poor Inky. I mean, I think she could miss a meal or two, but she tends to be a far more agreeable creature with a full belly. (As I type this, she finished eating and she's curled up purring like she's the happiest cat in West Virginia ...)

But now, I give NyQuil a chance to NOT let me down again. I'd hate to have it fail me after such a long time together.