Tuesday I had issues. I swear I am the only person in American who can avoid the flu, sinus infections and the common cold, but if there is anyone within a 100 mile radius with the stomach flu, my body gets all excited like jo-jo the idiot circus boy and snags it.
I woke up at 4:30 am with a very unhappy rumbly in the tumbly. I began yacking...hardcore yacking. It was so disgusting that when the upchuck hit my tastebuds, I puked even harder from the taste. Lovely I know. This continued throughout the morning and at 8 am I woke Jonathan from his slumber and begged him to go to Kroger (or Krogers as Kimberly would say) with my last 5 bucks and get me some saltines and Sprite like super quick like a bunny. The day did not get much better. I ceased vomiting about 10 am. Robin came to check on me at lunch, exclaimed that it was hella hot in my house and that I looked like death. I love her honesty, what are friends for?? The thing is, I did feel like death and I'm sure I was rockin hot in my glasses, frizzy hair in a bun and Houston Nutt t-shirt. Jonathan called on his way home and asked what I needed. I cried out loud as hard as I could, "A peach baby, a ripe, peach...2 or 3". Of course I am not coherent and fail to realize that while it is in fact the middle of December and while in fact today's high in AR was 72, peaches are not in season. He asks how you tell if a peach is ripe and says that he will do his best. (Later I find out that he drug the produce guy at Wal-Mart all around trying to find me a peach-I heart that kid). He tried to call me and tell me this but my phone was dead.
He came home to me curled up in a ball crying in pain, explaining that there were no peaches but that he would leave and get me some icecream if I wanted that. I decline and ate some lucky charms instead.
Today I felt much better. I still feel like I've been beat with a crowbar but as I lay with my head in my honey's lap, enjoying our new TV, I ask him if he remembers what I wanted last night. He immediately says, "Icecream? Let's go". And he took me to Coldstone and won about a trillion extra brownie points.
I woke up at 4:30 am with a very unhappy rumbly in the tumbly. I began yacking...hardcore yacking. It was so disgusting that when the upchuck hit my tastebuds, I puked even harder from the taste. Lovely I know. This continued throughout the morning and at 8 am I woke Jonathan from his slumber and begged him to go to Kroger (or Krogers as Kimberly would say) with my last 5 bucks and get me some saltines and Sprite like super quick like a bunny. The day did not get much better. I ceased vomiting about 10 am. Robin came to check on me at lunch, exclaimed that it was hella hot in my house and that I looked like death. I love her honesty, what are friends for?? The thing is, I did feel like death and I'm sure I was rockin hot in my glasses, frizzy hair in a bun and Houston Nutt t-shirt. Jonathan called on his way home and asked what I needed. I cried out loud as hard as I could, "A peach baby, a ripe, peach...2 or 3". Of course I am not coherent and fail to realize that while it is in fact the middle of December and while in fact today's high in AR was 72, peaches are not in season. He asks how you tell if a peach is ripe and says that he will do his best. (Later I find out that he drug the produce guy at Wal-Mart all around trying to find me a peach-I heart that kid). He tried to call me and tell me this but my phone was dead.
He came home to me curled up in a ball crying in pain, explaining that there were no peaches but that he would leave and get me some icecream if I wanted that. I decline and ate some lucky charms instead.
Today I felt much better. I still feel like I've been beat with a crowbar but as I lay with my head in my honey's lap, enjoying our new TV, I ask him if he remembers what I wanted last night. He immediately says, "Icecream? Let's go". And he took me to Coldstone and won about a trillion extra brownie points.
posted by Amanda at 10:36 PM
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