It might be because I am still completely bedridden. I have been since Sunday night. We came home from a long day of being out-and-about, and around 8pm I felt like someone snuck up behind me and hit me with a baseball bat. In the sinuses.
Since then, and as I mentioned yesterday, my days have consisted of sleeping for long periods of time, waking up and deciding I feel slightly better, getting stuck in YouTube rabbit holes of Jenna Marbles or Portlandia Clips, and then like 3 hours later, deciding that I don't indeed feel better. Deciding that I still feel like shit. And then going back to sleep. And then repeat, repeat, repeat.
One somewhat funny thing that I did think about blogging about was an incident that happened this afternoon...but I am still deciding if it's funny or sad. It might be more sad. Sorry in advance.
I was on the phone with one of my favorite people in life; a friend I used to work with when we lived in So Cal. She was asking me some questions about some of our up coming plans, and toward the end of the call, I oddly found that I couldn't stand anymore. I suddenly was SO dizzy, ridiculously hot, and couldn't make my mouth work properly. So I said some awkward things and hung up the phone. Meanwhile, Ruby, who has been sleeping with me all this time, is being a crazy-ass-banshee dog who is sprinting around the house and throwing her food ball at me. She'd been sleeping for the last 47 hours too, and woke up hungry.
As I'm awkwardly hanging up the phone with my friend, I manage to grab Ruby's food, and lower myself to all fours, where the threat of dying isn't quite as eminent. Crouched on my kitchen floor, I suddenly realize a few things in rapid succession:
ONE: I can't see. Everything is mostly black.
TWO: I think I might throw up all over the floor.
THREE: I don't want to throw up in the kitchen. This is my favorite room in the house. I would rather loose it in the bathroom if I have to.
FOUR: I still can't see. And standing is a horrible idea. I might die soon.
FIVE: I can't die. Someone's got to be around to feed Ruby. If I die, she'll have nothing to eat until someone stumbles in on me and finds me dead in the kitchen. OR WORSE, she'll eat my face off out of starvation.
In this black haze, I accept that I am going to loose it. Passing out, throwing up, or both is in my near future. But I suddenly have this intense need to make sure, that IF I DO DIE, Ruby is going to be taken care of.
(I wish I was joking as I tell you this next part, but this so serious and not even exaggerated).
I crawled to the edge of the kitchen, and taking Ruby's bag of puppy food, I began flinging kibble all over the living room. I just remember thinking that I wasn't sure how long it would be until someone found us, and she might need a lot food. I emptied the entire bag onto our white carpet. And not just in a pile. I SPRAYED THE ENTIRE BAG all over our white carpet.
I then army crawled to the bathroom and proceeded to vomit for the next good hour or so, while realizing that I still couldn't see, and my entire body was burning up and sweat was pouring out of every possible place.
Since then I've slept another 12 hours, and been able to keep down a good amount of ginger ale, and later a cup of soup. So, really, I'm hoping that was just a fluke thing. Also, Ruby's not really a binge eater. She's more of a grazer. So we still have most of a bag of kibble all over the living room, and I'm feeling much too achy to pick it up. Jenni for the win.
And now that I'm sitting here trying to blog something, I just keep laughing at this bent-over-half-dead version of myself, watering the carpets with puppy food so that in the case that I don't make it, Ruby can at least feed herself until someone finds us.
I know...too soon huh? Not funny, more sad?
Ok. That's it.
I'll work on something better for tomorrow, but if I still can't get out of bed, there are no promises.
-J
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