Well, it looks like I'm on the up and up. I have a meeting today in a few hours. I'm actually going in for it. I'm ready. I'm showered. I'm clean. All of my bedding and blue velour pajamas are in the dryer as I clip away at this. Miraculously, I did not die from the plague.
I'm not sure where I've been since Saturday night. I'm pretty sure I was here the whole time, lying in a pool of my own sweat, attempting to hydrate myself, moaning indecipherable things, dreaming in fits and starts. The old lady upstairs periodically came down to check on me, walk the dog for me, occassionally bring me some soup. This morning, she asked if I was going to get out of bed today. She said that it's "just tacky" to be in bed for too long. I had to laugh. Then she did some sort of "Egyptian voice" to insinuate that I was back from the dead. I don't know what the hell that was. It actually startled me. Was she making a joke? I really wasn't sure if it was funny, but I laughed politely anyway.
Even when I'm not sick, I'm not a hug fan of soy beans, or that edamame stuff. No. As sweet as the old lady was to bring me soup, all I could do was sip the broth. It was lovely. But I just couldn't bring one bean to my mouth. Nope, not one single bean. I am not a fan. Of the bean. And now, even less so.
At some point in the day, another friend of mine brought me ginger ale. Oh, that was very nice. I love ginger ale. I believe the ginger ale cured me. I drank 3 of them in the course of the afternoon. The ginger ale saved the day.
Now, it's all I can do not to crave a grilled cheese sandwich. With tomato. And real butter. Real. With no f-ing turkey...
And I am suddenly starting to fantasize about going to the gym. But not today. Tomorrow maybe. Today, I'm just happy to want to eat again, thanks.
Now, back to that sandwich...