You know I hate to complain. But I barfed. You know how I am about that. If you're new here, and really? Barfing is
sort
of
my
phobia.
New paragraphs let you know how serious I am.
I just assume no one's new here. I mean, blogs. They're gone. No one's checking out each other's blog. I'm like the last woman standing. Except I wasn't standing night before last.
So, night before last, and I hope this whole post is just me saying "night before last" a lot, I watched the debates and like most of us got disgusted with the state of America--although you and I may have different reasons for that. But anyway, I snapped off the TV (oh, but not before I took a moment to fall in love with that hot smart commentator on CNN! Who is that guy, and why does he not stop over?) and went to bed.
I guess his name is Van Jones. I Googled "hot black CNN guy," got this photo, and when I put it up here I saw the name "Van Jones" under his photo, and right then I knew.
I'll tell you who I'm van jonesing for. That's like lusting for someone, but in Dutch.
Anyway, m'barf. I know you wish I'd get right to that.
So I woke up at 2:30 in the morning, in what could be described as night before last, and man. I'd had a slight headache when I went to bed, but I figured I'd "sleep it off." Will you please remind me that any time a migraine is looming before bed, the chances of me "sleeping it off" are about 100 to one?
Wait. Does that mean not very likely? I never know about sports things.
I woke up with a migraine, and usually they're on one side or the other. As opposed to on one side or your mother. I mean, what a stupid phrase. Anyway, this one was on both sides, and it was going BOING BOING BOING in my head and oh, I felt awful.
I felt so awful that I was shaking, which has never happened before. My teeth were chattering. And to make matters worse, each slight movement brought a new wave of nausea, so. Yay.
The point is, despite my medication and so on, I was in so much agony that I couldn't fall asleep, and I just felt worse and worse, and I was running to the bathroom to release the hounds, as it were, till finally I barfed.
I'd banished the animals from the room so I could convalesce to my heart's content, but I swear to you Edsel just stood in the hallway wringing his paws all night. Whenever I'd emerge from one room or the other, I'd pat his head on the way past him, like we were playing a game of nausea duck, duck, goose.
So that was fun. Needless to say I missed work. I pretty much slept all day yesterday till finally I was alert enough to rent episodes of the Mary Tyler Moore Show. I'm on season one, and pretty much every episode so far is about someone taking advantage of her. "Mary, will you do this for me?" "Well, I don't really...oh, okayyyyy." You just want to tell her to grow a pair.
The Needy Committee was beside themselves over me being home all day. Lily lost her head over it.
Oh, good. The mailman. And Edsel's hackles. This is relaxing.
SD got yer growth chart, right here.
The laundry room floor is disgusting. I'll clean it this weekend. In the meantime, try not to barf and I'll talk to you night before last.
Projecting,
June
P.S. Of COURSE I weighed myself after. One measly pound.
