When I picked up Pat from the airport before Christmas, he said that he wasn’t really feeling all that well. Perhaps a perpetual thing for him. But the day after that I started to feel a little bit queesy just moving around.
Since then, both Riley and Berta have been sick. And Berta says that Abby was having similar complaints, too. Finally, on Monday, the illness struck. I didn’t wake up until 10:30, which is unusual in our house with the kids running around, and I didn’t actually get out of bed. Ever.
I don’t think I ate anything on Monday at all.
Yesterday, I went to work not feeling too well. I had an apple for breakfast. I ate a bit more for lunch - living dangerously and tempting this stomach issue to show itself - and that didn’t feel good. Dinner was skipped.
This morning I took an apple for breakfast but didn’t eat it. I have a 20oz diet ginger ale that I haven’t finished in five hours. I am considering whether lunch is even in my cards, because I just feel kind of full and woozy.
Maybe chicken nuggets won’t hurt too much? Perhaps I should just eat my apple.
What a lovely birthday. This, folks, is why I celebrate in June.
