 Poor Agapanthus |
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Sunday, 6/1/03
Not sure that the diner for breakfast was a good idea. After waking up and sending a message to my notify list, I stayed up from about 3 a.m. to 6 a.m. watching Sex and the City and made myself feel sicker and sicker by enduring the "Carrie and Aidan call off their engagement and break up" episodes. I tossed and turned until about 10:00 in the morning and then Karla and J. both called to check on me. Karla said that as they were trying to put me into bed, I kept saying, "I need to take out my contacts," and she kept saying, "You did!" And I said, "I need to take out my contacts," and she said, opening the case to show them to me, "They're right here! You already did!" and I said frantically, "I believe you! But I need to take out my contacts!" I thanked her profusely for the trash can, glass of water, and Tylenol she left by the bed. J. called and asked how I was feeling. "I feel like I barfed on the agapanthus," I replied hoarsely (which, considering that S. planted them, is not altogether inappropriate). I hosed off my lilies and prayed that they would survive the acidity of the orange juice and bile. Whee! Somehow I was persuaded to go to out to eat and I said I would only go to the diner. I think I must have still been drunk to think that my stomach would thank me for a greasy veggie omelet and grits. Everything was normal so I guess no harm was done by the drunken kissfoolery at the bar. Although I really felt only semi-conscious at breakfast so I'm not sure I'm the best person to judge. I am so distressed to be at work on a Sunday when I feel so ill. Seriously, I want to curl up on the floor of my office and take a nap. My head is about to explode. I keep running to the bathroom thinking I'm going to be sick but the idea of getting sick at work is just too tragic to bear so I don't do it. Monday Morning, 6/2/03
I got home last night and just started feeling worse and worse and it's spread into today. I don't know what's wrong with me. I am sitting here with my trash can by my desk. I tried to soak in the tub last night but felt something akin to seasickness. I was flipping the channels, and every time I got to The Perfect Storm, I almost heaved. I feel like every move I make is in slow motion and is so nausea-inducing that I can hardly bear it. I realized this morning that I forgot to take my Effexor yesterday so maybe that just added to the heinosity of my condition? I have no idea. I kind of hate myself right now and wish I were anywhere but at work. I am never eating boiled crawfish and drinking screwdrivers again, and this whole situation with my friend J. has got to stop. I mean, after I make out with him IN FRONT OF PEOPLE IN A BAR, I loathe myself. I just feel like that is part of what made me throw up and is making me sick. Even though things are normal now and we went to eat at the diner yesterday and it's like we're BFFs again, I tried to tell him about 100 times on Saturday night through the drunkenness that I am not ready for this, and he just says, "When you are, I'll be waiting!" and retarded shit like that and it's just too much for me to deal with. And we've been through this before, when he fully had a girlfriend barely out of diapers and I had convinced myself that we were soulmates because I was foolish and lonely, and I should know better. I love our friendship, and this is going to doom it. It didn't before, but it almost did, and it certainly will this time around if I'm not careful. And I'm just not ready to be kissing someone all the time. I'm just not. And I've told him that, but I know that I send him mixed messages once we've tossed back a few and the flirtation spins out of control. I mean, apparently I was sobbing in the bathroom about S. one minute (which I haven't done in a while, really) and then making out with J. the next. This has GOT TO STOP. I think the main way to do it is to just stop drinking for a while because I obviously cannot control myself right now.  J. sent this with the subject line: "Prior to the Puke!" Nice. I mean, this was Saturday night and I have not stopped feeling disgustingly nauseated since and like I have to sit here with my hand over my mouth. It's just ridiculous and I feel a lot of shame over the whole thing right now, even though apparently everyone else was hammered, too, celebrating the last night of this particular bar and had a great time and I am trying to focus on that even though there are large parts of the evening that I have completely blacked out on and that is just UNCOOL. The other night when I was writhing around in bed, Khaki was lying on her side next to my pillow, as she usually does, and Marley was bounding around in her usual middle of the night forage for food like the pig that she is, and she hopped up next to Khaki, who loves her and all, but really likes her own space and usually hisses at Marley to leave her the fuck alone when she's trying to sleep and dreaming blissfully that she's the only cat in the house. But Marley lay on her side facing Khaki, and Khaki didn't jump up with her nose in the air, for once, and Marley slung her entire paw around Khaki's torso, like a hug, and Khaki started LICKING HER ON THE HEAD. I almost started to weep, but any exertion made me feel like puking, so instead I just closed my eyes and whispered a delirious prayer of thanks for my most beautiful kitties. I was not long into my reverie when they both hissed and took off on a chase, each planting a few claws into my back on the way out and sending a few tufts of fur swirling down into the furry pit of slovenliness that is my bed, and I croaked, "Y'all are fucking crazy!" And then I burped and moaned some more, I'm sure. Such is my life.
Monday Afternoon, 6/2/03 Okay, my co-worker forced me to drink a Sprite and eat a few pretzels and I feel a little better now. This is such an insane time in the life of all of my friends. Unplanned pregnancies, relationship turmoil, miscarriages for planned pregnancies, relatives in the military in Iraq, brothers dying of heart attacks, I mean, it's just enough to make me vomit for 77 consecutive days. Ooh, the pilot of Everwood is on tonight. Knowing Ephram will appear in my life in a few short hours is almost consolation enough for all of this madness.
© Copyright 2003 elb |
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