In Which I Go Into Entirely Too Much Detail About Being Ill (You've Been Warned)

I woke up this morning with my jaw clenched, possessed of a certainty that if I moved I would vomit.

Do you know what it's like to have a hangover?  If so, then you know how I felt (although I had nothing more intoxicating than a glass of ginger ale the night before).  If not, let me see if I can break it down for you- your ability to keep from vomiting is like a pair of pins balanced point to point.  This improbable arrangement has only one hope of maintaining itself- complete immobility.  Even breathing too hard in its vicinity is liable to bring the whole thing down.  As such, I spent about half an hour in bed maintaining my iron-jaw survival response, too afraid to get vertical even long enough to make it to the bathroom.

"Hon?  You'd better get up," this from a helpful husband, trying to ensure I'm not Late for Work.

"If I move," (this from between my gritted teeth) "I will vomit."

Eventually a moment came where I thought I might be able to make it to the bathroom- and I did.  And never mind the details, but it involves a shower and desperate gratitude for hot water beating down on my weakened frame.

I probably spent an hour in that shower, having decided that work could get along just fine without me for the time being.  Unfortunately I knew I had to go in for at least half an hour, to take care of some time-sensitive issues (stupid stock market), which I did, but on my way home I got saltines and herbal tea.  Once there I crawled back into bed, drank my potion, and tried to ignore my ravaged obliques and throat long enough to slip back into sleep.

It wasn't actually that hard (thanks valerian-infused tisane!) although I had some weird dreams.

I'm awake again (obviously) and able to move about without clenching my jaw, but I have a certain delicacy about my innards that's keeping me on a cracker diet for the nonce.  And I'm trying to face up to the fact that what I've long suspected- that I have a bit of a dairy intolerance- is probably pretty seriously true.  (Damn you, delicious cream-based sauce).  As I lamented to Nathan, I'm turning into a hipster against my own will ("No refined sugars!  No dairy!  No peanuts!" "They don't eat peanuts?  Yeah, I guess that's right- they eat organic cashews...")

(...also I am currently waiting to get my single-gear bike back from the shop...  ::sigh:: at least it's not a fixie...)