Speaking Too Soon

My Dear Fellow,

I'm writing this on Saturday morning. The last 2 days have been a complete write-off.

I woke up on Thursday morning feeling vaguely queasy. I'd been listening to an online lecture about the life of St. Paul and decided that he disagreed with me.

But Andrew's Liver Salts cure everything. Yes they do. I drank a glass and immediately felt better. I had a shower but then realised I was starting to feel worse again.

Because I am a brave little soldier, I told Er Indoors that I was going to work, but I just wanted to wait a little while for the queasiness to lift first. Then I had ANOTHER glass of Andrew's. That MUST cure it, right?

But then I started to feel slippery and sweaty. I probably WASN'T going to spew. I was pretty sure of this. Still. 

Because Er Indoors was in the bathroom by this time I thought, "Oh well, maybe I'll just take the dishes out of the washing-up bowl in the sink." Just in case. You can't be too careful. You never know.

Jasper started shouting at me because I was in the kitchen, which is where the biscuits come from. And that's when I realised, "Oh right. This is happening."

I told Jasper in a not very friendly way to get out of my way and then collapsed onto the horrible kitchen floor, with my washing up bowl and did a ginormous spew. Jasper got the message and effed off.

"Ok," I thought. "Well NOW that's out of the way I'll feel better soon," I thought. This is why I'm not a doctor. Because three hours later I was clinging to a bucket wondering if I had anything left in me to expunge.

And the answer was - apparently - "yes". 

The irony of this after my entry from yesterday is not lost on me.

El P.