I never get sick. I got shot, but I don't get sick. I come from hearty peasant stock, as I am fond of reminding TBG. His tummy is sensitive; I eat everything and never have a problem.
That is, until it's important that I be up, dressed, and waiting along the road for Amster and the kids to drive by. Then, I wake up at 2am, ready to hurl all the delicious foodstuffs I consumed yesterday. I shake. I quiver. I end up on the floor, the cool, tiled floor, sweaty and moaning.
Needless to say, there wasn't much sleeping happening in our house last night.
TBG found me medicine, but I had to feel well enough to swallow it and keep it down. That took some time...... the sun was up before I was certain that the pill would end up in my gut and not be rejected by my uncooperative body.
I texted Amster at five o'something, begging off and apologizing for not being able to join them on Race Day.
I spent the morning in bed, the afternoon on the couch, and I've come to the desk to type to you because I know that you are out there, waiting for my daily report.
Sorry it's not cheerier.... or longer... or more uplifting.
Feeling crummy.... that's all I have to say.