A night of vomiting and diarrhea left me pretty drained this morning and I spent the day in bed, too dizzy and weak to do anything else. Even sick, you can only sleep so much, so a good part of the day was me just looking at the ceiling and thinking about stuff. Stuff like:
- If a blanket is so soft that you can barely feel it, does it really count as a blanket at all?
- When even the thought of food makes you queasy, why is it impossible to stop thinking about food? "Don't think about those cookies you ate last night...don't think about them...gah! Ugh! Cookies!"
- Did God create cold ginger ale just for me on this exact day?
- It's too bad that I'll have to cancel Pi day this year, as I'm never eating again.
- Is my goal of removing the 3 neatly tied grocery bags full of vomit from the bathroom floor before the maid gets here a realistic one?
- Does any sentence containing the words "before the maid gets here" make me seem pampered and entitled?
- If the best books that I've read this year were non-fiction, why do I read so much fiction?
- I wish I had a really fluffy, non-serious book to read right now.
- Wait Wait Don't Tell Me is straight up quality.
That's all really. I'm sure this has been fascinating, but it was a pretty quiet day.
Loved the window into your stream of consciousness
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