Last weekend is a true woozy blur. I’d like to say it was all the fun Miss V and I had out at the Whistle Stop but – no.
I hadn’t been feeling to great Friday but just brushed it off. Woke up Saturday morning and something definitely didn’t feel right. That’s when a seemingly endless wave of praying to the gods of porcelain began. By the time it was all over late Sunday, I felt like I’d been wrung and hung out to dry. So marks Food Poisoning Pukefest 2010.
I’ve never been so happy to have Mondays off as I was this week. I slept, slept and slept some more. Anything to calm the storm in my belly which finally came to a halt.
Tuesday and Wednesday have been brought their own ailments in the form of tax preparation – dun dun dun dun!
It feels like I’m at the end of one of those shows where you have to walk over glass, jump through fire and eat an eel. Ack!
I’ll have mine with plum sauce please.
