Within an hour of publishing Tuesday's post, I very suddenly came down with that stomach bug Noah had last week. (NO I AM NOT PREGNANT.) (Come on, you know I managed to pee on a stick in the middle of all the nausea, right?) (Also, what a weird phrase "came down with" is. Like instead of saying what really happened, which is that I very suddenly puked my guts out, I make it sound like I was a contestant on the Price is Right.)
Anyway. I am not sure if this has been established in my illustrious history of oversharing with the Internet, but I DO NOT DO SICK WELL. I am a magnificent baby about being sick. Just...spectacular. I immediately called Jason to inform him of the immediate need to get his ass home, and also got in a good 10 minutes of whining about my injuries and my knees and how my injuries and my knees where making the whole thing so much worse because have you ever tried to crouch around the toilet with broke-ass tore-up knees?
(Seriously, but my knees are killing me. The scrapes gave way to bruises in all colors of the rainbow that creep down my legs to my ankles, plus I managed a good sprain-ish twisting of the left one, and I never even showed you my palms and wrists, and in summary: TREMENDOUS WAH.)
Luckily, it was indeed a 24-hour bug of some kind, and after 25 hours of moaning and a love-hate relationship with sips of water ("well, I kept that last sip down okay and I'm just SO THRISTY, maybe I'm up for a real grown-up size swallow?" *gulp* "FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.") -- the clouds parted and lo, there was an instant and insatiable desire for a grilled cheese sandwich. Maybe two.
And that was my day! How was yours? All this and more, I hope.
(Noah's bedside manner just may be the best ever, though. He combed my hair and helpfully suggested that some Blue's Clues might cheer me up. Such a giver, this one.)