Yesterday was a pretty bad day for me, at least physically.
I woke up at 7am – half an hour before my first alarm was due to go off – with a pain twisting through my gut that screamed “get to the toilet”… Which I did, promptly throwing up the previous night’s dinner. Flush toilet, rinse mouth, crawl back to bed.
Alarm #1 goes off at 7.30am, with my self-written message popping up, telling me to ‘get up!’ … I turn it off and roll over.
Alarm #2 with the slightly more aggressive message of ‘really, GET UP!!!’ Goes off at 7.45am – which just goes to show how well I know myself, that I set not one but TWO alarms for weekday mornings.
So I get out of bed, tummy groaning in a complaint of now-emptiness and general nausea – to see my 7 year old daughter already awake, dressed and ready to go, watching her before-school tv shows.
My motivation level twitches up an inch or so, inspired by her responsible action.
Then the internal groans start – we walk to her school, while I inform my work experience supervisor that I won’t be in because I’m not well, and my tummy decides to let my legs add their voice to the general dis-ease running rampant in my body. I drop her off and turn around, walking MUCH slower than usual (I usually walk at an average speed of ~6km/h) back home.
It’s takes me LITERALLY 5 minutes to get the key into the front door to regain entry into my unit – that doesn’t sound like a long time, but keep in mind most songs are between 3 and 4 minutes long and you’ll see what’s so irritating about it taking FIVE MINUTES TO UNLOCK MY DAMN DOOR.
I get straight back into bed, and spend about an hour tossing and turning, and generally bemoaning the state of my digestive tract & aching legs. Eventually I fall asleep and am blissfully out of it until 1.45pm. I don’t feel nauseated any more, but I’m still tired, legs still hurt, I feel bloody hot as hell, and I now have a headache.
Hubby comes home just after 2pm, sees me not at work and asks if I’m ok… Like he can’t tell just by looking at me – I’m fairly certain I looked almost as bad as I felt, but he’s usually not one to comment on my poor appearance. I sit under the air con and pass the time until I have to pick up our daughter by drinking my first coffee of the day. Mind you, I usually drink at least 5-6 coffees by this time of day.
I drag myself out of the house to go pick up said child, and return home literally dripping sweat. Fantastic – my meds that are meant to dehydrate my sweat glands are not working properly. I try to relax and scroll through both tumblr and WordPress for things to read (which I do find, in copious quantity) while hubby has a nap.
I start cooking dinner once the outside temperature has dropped enough that I don’t want to kill myself by standing over the stove. I cook (my version of) stir fry, and we eat. I clean the dishes – wait, that’s a lie, I put the dishes in the sink – and flop down on the couch, exhausted for no apparent reason.
At 10.30pm hubby makes me go to bed, noticing how exhausted, ill and pathetic I look just sitting there on the couch. He’s all loving and cuddly, and I truly appreciate what he does for me.
So that’s how my crappy Monday ended – being tucked in by my loving partner with kisses and cuddles.