I woke up after a 12-hour slumber puking and pooping. I used to puke almost daily from stress, but I've gotten that calmed down. I think I'm really sick, but I'm not sure. Nonetheless, I called in sick and I'm glad as I haven't been able to be too far away from the toilet.
As a teacher, it's often easier to just go to school than to leave sub plans and worry all day. But we're at the point of the semester where I've got the kids trained well: they are all working independently on projects and don't need me much. OK. They might need me, but are gonna have to tough it out for a day.
Maybe I'll attack that pile of stories that still sits there menacingly. Maybe I'll put away that pile of clothes that stares at me when I wake up. Maybe hell will freeze over.
Wish I were pregnant. Then I'd know why I barf. But that's impossible, as hubby's been fixed and my eggs are drying up as I type.
Oh well, why ask why? It's just me: it's part of who I am, what my brain is, and where I am in life. Either that or I simply got the flu.
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