Technicolor Yawn

That certainly was unpleasant, to say the least.

I had a bit of a match with either food poisoning or the stomach flu last night. Either way, we went five rounds and I lost every single one of them. Ding, ding!

Don't feel feverish or achey, but not sure what I ate that no one else in our house consumed. Husband suggested the mustard I put on my tuna sandwich yesterday, which I am skeptical of. I'd be more inclined to place my vote with the mayo, but all three of us ate the same mixture, and I was the only one shouting obscenities into a porcelain bowl at 2am. Go figure.

Barfing is never pleasant, but there is a certain kind of relief after just getting it over with. Whew! Now I can just start to feel better, you think to yourself (while using your Husband's toothbrush to clean your mouth.) Hell, I'd even started to compose a little vomit haiku while cooling my cheek on the toilet seat.

Storm in my tummy

Like the winter winds outside

I'll knock down a fence

But it just kept on and on, every 40 minutes or so. And every time I went to the bathroom, I'd drag another pillow or blanket in there. By the time it was all over, I'd built quite a nest on the floor. At one point, while limply drooped over Mags' stepstool and the blankets carelessly draped around me, my pose reminded me of a nightmare-ish Olan Mills photograph, sans the 1970's barn scene behind me.

And then I threw up again.

While still completely exhausted, the cramping in my stomach has significantly abated, and I am well enough to stagger downstairs and regale my adventures. Fingers crossed that whatever this was its done with, and that neither Husband or Mags comes down with it. We've been very lucky - knock on wood - that Mags has only thrown up once in her life. If we could continute that streak so that she doesn't throw up again - say, until college when I don't have to deal with it - I'd be much appreciative.