So I like to blame all this on damned cats. Now I’ve got nothing against cats, per se. I kind of like how they’re not literal ass-kissers like dogs are (and I am a dog person.) But the problem is that I’m deathly allergic to them, and on Thursday night I got a double dose.

The most distressing part was probably the chest tightness. When I was a kid, I used to have terrible asthma, and for the most part that has gone away, except I get some exercise-induced wheezing, and whenever I get sick, I’m coughing for a month after I get better. And then there are cats.

I begin to worry when I start coughing. I never get truly wheezy except if I exercise. The only evidence of bronchospasm is this nagging cough that isn’t just post-nasal drip.

And then I rub my eyes.

Thankfully, I have an albuterol inhaler. But the horse was out of the gate when it came to the itchy eyes and dripping nose, and the night was pretty much shot and I still had to review a couple of articles in order to give a quick talk on Friday. This meant very little restful sleep, and I went to work under a fog.

I did have a bizarre moment of dejá vù at work, about this really interesting rheumatological case. When I thought about it, though, I realize that the first time I heard about something similar was in a strange dream I had in 3rd year or maybe 4th year of med school. Things like that make me wonder if sometimes spacetime does leak, and that there are ways to get a glimpse of the future.

I luckily get out by 4:30 p.m., and end up seriously crashing out at 7 p.m. That was basically my Friday.

But, of course, for no good reason, I wake up at 1 a.m., and I can’t go back to sleep.

OK, so maybe there is a reason. There are a million thoughts fly through my head.

I feel like my brain is on fire.

But there’s no point in contemplating these things. Who knows how anything is supposed to turn out? I keep having these moments of portentousness, when I think something big is going to happen to me, but I’m cynical and jaded enough to realize that this is just wishful thinking, or maybe hypomania.

Now, sitting in front of this computer, I feel trapped. Like I’m living my own Groundhog Day, whirling around in circles, doing the same thing over and over again. And this here is definitely the depression talking, because at times like this, I feel like nothing is ever going to change for me, or if things do, it’ll always be for the worse.

Whatever happened to enjoying life’s simple pleasures?