The Day After

I went into work yesterday. I was feeling better, albeit sleep deprived. Basically, I overslept, debated whether or not to grab a shower, and then caught a different bus than usual.

In case you're wondering, I had one memory of the Ren & Stimpy episode where Ren gets sick and Stimpy gives him a spongebath. That was all the motivation I needed to soap up and rinse off the particulate vomit and diarrhea off my skin.

Once I'd done everything I needed to do that day, I started to crash. Hard. By 4 PM, I'd become exceedingly useless at doing anything and was getting really, really drowsy.

Monk gave me a ride home. I went upstairs to my room and promptly nodded off. He came up to tell me dinner was ready. I passed on the opportunity and opted instead to move to my couch to take a nap.

He awoke me later, shoving a glass of water with vitamin C powder stirred into it. "Drink this," he commanded. I weakly tipped it back, finishing about half of it, and went back to sleep.

He awoke me again. "Drink this." It was water. This continued until almost 10:30 at night, until I had enough energy to trudge downstairs and split a packet of Pop Tarts with him. By then, it was late and I was excited to go back to bed.

For the first time in ages, sleep came easily. I awoke at 5:34 with a terrible urgency in my bladder and felt the surge to purge. I whizzed for three full minutes, putting both post-cryo Austin Powers and Tom Hank's character from "A League of Their Own" to shame.

Today, I'm back at work and drinking heavily. Tea, V8, and orange juice. I may just live after all.