Usually, though, I don't take tylenol. It's not that I enjoy it when my eyeballs feel like subwoofers, I really don't. I think that it makes me feel like a mini-martyr, it gives me some kind of sick satisfaction to suffer through the little rave going on inside by skull aaaalllll by myself...as if I'm some kind of venerable doctor of the church or something. (Human pride manifested through "holiness" at its finest, my friends.)
See, if I was Therese Martin I would rejoice in this tiny suffering, that I may offer it up to the Lord. Every day she fell asleep in prayer. She was so weak that she could barely keep up with the simple household chores. Life in the convent was very difficult for her, yet she suffered through each small tribulation for her beloved, until she began coughing up blood. During those last days as she was gasping for air, I know she was gasping for heaven, for Jesus, in utter anticipation. Therese only needed 24 years to become a B-B-B-Bad to the Bone Catholic. I anticipate that I will need at least 4 of those lifetimes, if I'm lucky....
So, how do I get my morning-self from Point A, which is this:
To Point B: