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Thursday,
So, of course, what do I do when I get home? Why, decide to go out for dinner with Tina, of course! My reasoning, which seemed pretty good at the time, was, "I don't feel like cooking, I don't feel like eating a cold sandwich, but I'm finally starting to feel hungry again -- ergo, we're going somewhere for a hot meal." Which we did, at a nice Chinese place we know in Gamla Stan, and it was lovely and made me feel much better (unsurprising, since it was pretty much the first solid meal I'd had since Sunday night). Won Ton Soup and a variety of dim sum, for the curious. In retrospect, however, I should have said no to the alcohol. It was just a little Cointreau in hot chocolate, but considering what I hadn't eaten for the last few days, it had something of an exaggerated effect (for those of you who were there, I bring to mind my mother and the famous "Thanksgiving Martini Incident 2"). The conversation quickly swerved into uninhibited girl's night out chat, which included giggling, bitching, swapping of questionable anecdotes and comparison of notes regarding the male condition.
-- I must take full responsibility for this -- Winter Warmers or no, I knew what I was doing, and hope fervently that the email was taken in the good-natured spirit in which it was written. Because if it wasn't, I'm going to be kicking myself unmercifully.-- Of course, since a roguish deed never goes unpunished, I woke up this morning with the full and certain knowledge that everything I'd eaten the night before was about to make a desperate bid for freedom. Following the usual path, mind you (and thank you VERY much, God), but once that was gone the general nausea, dizziness and general feeling of uck returned with a vengeance. I don't think it's a result of the Cointreau -- the way I felt yesterday suggests that I am indeed harboring some kind of bug. So I'm currently sitting here in my nightgown after calling in sick, a glass of 7-Up at my side, ready to go into the living room and watch mindless TV for awhile. Hasta la. . . Later -- it's 4:36 AM, and I really, REALLY should be in bed, but I did sleep for a large chunk of yesterday. So much for my circadian rhythm, not to mention my work capability tomorrow. But I feel much, much better. In fact, I'm feeling at loose ends and rather creative, and in the mood to write a little erotica in celebration of that fact. Time to put some Björk on the CD player and let the muse do her thing. May everyone out there have a love, near or far, to keep them warm. his wicked sense of humour
he believes in beauty he's exploring he believes in beauty |
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Welcome
back to Nausea Central. The photographic evidence to the left will
show that I'm currently white as a sheet and feeling miserable. It seems
that pushing it to go back to work on Tuesday and Wednesday was not a
good idea, after all (then again, I think I noticed something was wrong
yesterday when I almost passed out on my keyboard).
Suffice
it to say that by the time we cabbed it back to Mörby Centrum for
supplies and walked home, we were feeling playful and in a mood to email.
And email we did. Oh, boy, did we email.