Today I decided to go to work, mostly because I couldn't do another day without pay. The Possum was better, plus I always feel vaguely guilty if I'm at home by myself. Even if I have the Plague, I'll wonder if maybe I should just suck it up and head on into work.
The Elfling also had a special school breakfast on this morning, and for her sake at least I wanted to look marginally presentable. So I got dressed in work clothes and did my hair and after some screeching we were all in the car on time and ready for the drop off x3 extravaganza (Bingley left at 5:30).
The breakfast at her school was lovely. We ate Indonesian coconut rice and damper and Chileno caramel biscuits and Japanese honeycakes. I didn't eat much, feeling slightly queasy, but the Elfling was incredibly well behaved and so happy I was there. Which made me feel simultaneously cheerful and guilty that I'm not one of the "helpful Mums" always up at the classroom and helping out.
On the way out I got absolutely drenched by the tidal wave of rain that exploded on top of me and I shivered in peak hour traffic with my damp clothes stuck to me enjoying the chance to sit and listen to the radio in peace. I love music, it makes me happy. And so I was, even looking like a drowned rat (good thing I'd spent so long ironing my hair!).
Getting to work I couldn't stop singing under my breath as I traipsed into work, unnecessarily splashing in puddles. Clearly 2 days off had been very good for me. I dutifully followed my registrar around making lots of notes and then started writing up a case presentation while clicking through e-mails. Still humming under my breath.
And then, possibly because I'm sick, possibly because I'm hormonal (not that I've ever been able to really use that as an excuse before) one teensy little remark suddenly had tears rolling down my cheeks. I didn't even notice until it splashed on the paper in front of me that I was crying. And I couldn't stop. I was trying to write a case presentation about a lovely man who died over the weekend and suddenly my vision was blurry and the tears would not stop. To add to the fun I felt sick to my stomach and could barely breathe.
I was a pretty sight I assure you, hair half wet, half curled, half frizzy, all messy. Black shirt damp and clinging unattractively and big smooshy tears rolling down my cheeks. I didn't have a tissue either, and when my nose started to run my options were limited, and not giving a fuck I used my already damp sleeve. The man at the computer terminal next to me looked vaguely alarmed that he might be required to participate in my display of public misery and we studiously avoided eye contact until I composed myself enough to get to the bathroom and wash my face. A sight to behold. In movies women cry with tears like jewels running in crystal rivulets down creamy cheeks. In Jennland, women cry with hot, acidic tears that seem to leave burn marks on cheeks while eyes turn a sickly green colour.
I will never be an actress.
Anyhow, because I was feeling so miserable I was not hungry but knew I had to eat. And in doing so made a stupendously bad decision. Instead of the iced tea that I sort of craved and probably would have helped my belly I chose milk. Chocolate milk. Because heaving bellies and milk are a good combination. And to complete this I decided that I would ignore all the healthy options, being as I wasn't hungry anyway, and I'd abuse myself with some comfort food. Wedges - which I haven't eaten in probably 2 years.
Can I point out right now that this is not a good choice? In fact this is a Very Bad Choice. As was pointed out to me approximately an hour later as I sat concentrating very hard on the table in front of me while attempting to participate in a team meeting. Or approximately an hour after that as I drove home. Or approximately 5 minutes after that as I stripped off all clothing touching my abdomen and crawled under the covers. Or approximately 5 minutes after that when I relived my alochol bingeing glory days.
I am now sicker than I ever remember being (memory is short when it comes to gastro) and I hate the world. The heaving, spinning, partially digested with bile world.