Today is one of those (horrifying) days where the clock. Won't. Go. Anywhere.

The weather outside is decent (if you look at that link and shudder that what you find there is my definition of decent, just remember what happened here last weekend), it's Friday, and I really just want to bust out of this joint and go home! Instead, no matter how I try to dig into my work, I just keep feeling antsy and bored out of my mind.

So, I'm taking a quick break to blog a little in hopes that it will get my creative juices flowing just enough to tide me over through the last hour of work. Because, even though I hate the sun (no, really, I don't like it. I am pretty sure that I break out in a sunburn just thinking about the sun), I really just wish I could go for a walk outside. Too bad my job is in the middle of an industrial complex and the air consistently smells like butt (or exhaust fumes. Same difference.). Plus, the other day I tried to walk up the hill next to the office, thinking that being able to kick ass on the elliptical would transfer into busting all sorts of up on that mound o' dirt.

Instead, I am pretty sure I had an asthma attack.

See, the hill is really steep- as in my ghettofabulous '91 Geo Metro(minus the fabulous... what can I say? I made stupid choices with credit cards in college and my tightwad husband makes sure that all disposable income goes to paying off that debt. I actually am grateful. Having a ghetto car keeps me humble. But if you're rich and want to inspire my writing, please have a 2009 Acura TSX in Vortex Blue Pearl, the 6 speed automatic (hey, it's Seattle. There are a lot of freaking stoplights.) technology package with ebony leather and all of the bells and whistles sent to my home, replete with a large red ribbon like those lame Lexus commercials they showed for the 6 months leading up to Christmas last year. Parenthetical digressions like this are why you love me so much in the first place, and a TSX would just cause so many more to bubble up from within me.) would probably make it up the thing even more slowly than I was able. I was hoofing up it, feeling ok for the first minute or so. Then I felt like there was a rock in the middle of my sternum. I was literally scared that I might be having a heart attack, but I was entirely too embarrassed to be the fat chick who can't walk up a hill. I refused to stop until I reached the top.

Having never been up that hill, it was unglamorous. More crappy industrial buildings, and a wonderful Waste Management plant. As in the actual green and yellow Waste Management trucks all over the country. I told you it smells like butt out there. So, anyway, I found some steps at the top to chill out for a second, and then I came back down. I didn't want to go straight to my office because this was on Tuesday, the day I fasted from food and the internet... I knew that spending an hour (45 minutes at this point) in my office would be a pretty terrible idea because I doubted my ability to actually stay away from my computer and food drawer, but there isn't really anywhere else to go here. There is a break room, but the chairs are that craptastic plastic kind people have on their decks and I don't fit into them without my hips squeezing out the sides. Needless to say, it's rather uncomfortable in multiple senses.

So, I sat on a wooden bench. It was actually quite lovely, with trees overhead and tucked into a corner where the giant hill was rises up (I'm on the second story, about 20 feet up, and the hill is almost ground level outside my window, and the path where the bench is hidden is down below... I guess it's hard to explain. Just trust me that the bench is in a quiet, non-butt smelling, haven of peace). I had been sitting there, praying, for a few moments, when I suddenly decided to breathe through my mouth instead of my nose. And... I couldn't. As in breathe. My poor lungs were desperately trying to get in some air, but it was a ragged breath, about as successful as trying to get a big gulp of your milkshake when the cup is empty and the straw screams as 3 drops race each other up to your mouth.

This freaked me out a little. It brought back the horror of being stung 42 times by yellowjackets when I was 8-- and I am allergic to bee stings. When I was 14 I was stung and my mom rushed me to the hospital when she realized the Benadryl wasn't even touching my reaction. The doc told her I had about 3 minutes before my airway would completely close off and that if I didn't get an Epi-pen my next sting would likely kill me. He said this right in front of me as he was giving me a shot in the arse... good times, I tell ya. I haven't been stung since, by the way... I don't want to find out if my 3 minute window still holds, either.

But... it's a horrible feeling, not being able to breathe. I am not afraid to die in the least bit- bring on the Jesus. That said, I have a deep fear of drowning... I almost drowned once at the public pool when I was about 10- some stupid girl dared me to jump off the diving board when I insisted that I knew how to swim, though I did not. She called me on it in front of a lot of people, daring me to jump, and I told her that I was zero percent afraid to jump off the diving board and prove it. So, I did. I flailed desperately for a few minutes to no avail... then I just sort of sunk to the bottom, and thought, "So this is how I'll die", while studying the grates at the bottom, and wonderful if the silver coin off yonder was a quarter or a nickel. My lungs were screaming for air, but what can you do when 10 feet of water separate you from air? Then, without warning, arms yanked me up to the surface... I immediately fell in love with the lean high school boy who was my hero. But mostly I was just really tired, so I walked home and lied to my mom when she asked if I was ok. I'm pretty sure someone tipped her off, because I had to take swimming lessons that summer.

Oh, how I digress. So... breathing. It's important. And, on Tuesday, through my mouth I could not. But I could breathe fine through my nose, so I sat there kind of scared to move until my heart was all of the way back to normal and I was less freaked out.

I'm not sure what the moral of this story is, other than that I should probably go to the doctor.