3 a.m.

Yesterday, after a girls night out, I woke up with what could have been confused with a mean hangover. That's what I thought, anyhow, when I got up to vomit. But then I didn't feel better. At all. And proceeded to dry heave every thirty minutes for the next several hours.

Grossed out yet? Well I am right there with you. Sorry, about that. But folks for a few hours I thought I was dying. I had terrible chills and couldn't move from bed. At some point the whole nasty business stopped and I slept for several hours - one of those dead to the world coma sleeps only a sick person knows.

When I woke up I was able to imbibe some food and a little tea even. Maybe it wasn't the flu after all? But no, the fever came back and has stayed with me ever since.

Meanwhile I am having killer spasming back pains. I knew that I hadn't ever totally healed from the Spain trip but I had been feeling mostly normal in that area so I forgot about it. That is, over course, until I spent an entire day in bed. Why should that make it worse, I don't know, but it did. No matter what position I tried to sleep in there would be an occasional shooting pain all up and down my right side, reminding me that I probably need to go back to the chiropractor.

Needless to say, come three a.m. I am wide awake. And less conveniently, I am hungry. After a day of barely being able to keep things down I am now starving to death. Because why not, really?

And so I've gotten up to make noodles - currently the only thing in my house to eat - and mindlessly surf the internet wondering why I am awake. I have rearranged the pillows in the hopes that after I am full I can pass out with moderate comfort. The cat is going berserk, darting around the house with glee that I am awake when he wants to be. I certainly wish he would use all that energy for the good of the household (but I'll let him off because of his lacking opposable thumbs).

All my plans for tomorrow are screwed. God I love this time of year...