Uggghhhhhh.

Yesterday there was yet another holiday luncheon at work, this time with a different department so I wasn't invited to the lunch itself - but the leftovers were brought to the staff room to share. I had some meatballs, some sweet potato pie, and some veggies and dip.

Line those suckers up against a wall with little number placards, because one of them is guilty. I spent last night sleeping, moaning, watching my head spin off my shoulders and splat on the floor, and a few various other activities which I'd rather not describe in detail both because this is not an episode of South Park and because I'm still nauseous enough that I'm afraid vivid language might send me a-runnin' for the bathroom... blech.

I was so sick last night that the majority of my evening was spent curled up in the corner of the couch, attempting to molecularly align myself with a pillow so that I could simply disappear, like the monk in the Great Wall of China only with fewer conspiracy theorists knocking on my door. I couldn't even knit, I was so blah. I lay there and watched hockey with Willem - but lest he get his hopes up, I was also watching commercials and the arm of the loveseat with equal intensity. I'm just not a good sportswife.

I slept on the couch, because the flatter I got the more the room spun. I'm at work today, because ... I don't actually know. I find it difficult to take time off of work, and what good is a day off if you mar it with guilt? Plus I'm taking a half-day on Tuesday for Willem's birthday, and I'd rather be home happy than be home spinning.

I've run out of motivation to be witty and verbose. You do it instead, okay?