There is a tornado churning its way through my insides.
Every time I move, my head feels the way I imagine a bowling ball feels as it makes its way down the alley.
Nausea has been my creepy stalker all day. Instead of sending me flowers, its been sending me face down in a bucket.
I've spent the entire day drifting from the couch to my bed. Every now and then I try to get up. I put on my coach's cap and convince myself that I can get up and be a somewhat productive member of society.
I slap one foot on the floor, followed by the other. I stand. I put one foot gingerly in front of the other. I cringe. An amateur heavy metal band pounds through my head.
I give up and collapse in a heap on the couch.
I spend time with project free tv. Catch up on some shows. Discover a love of Mistresses.
I call my mama. Everyone needs to explain just how sick they are to their mom. That alone makes me feel a teeny bit better.
Not better enough to leave the sanctuary of my bedroom, but enough that I feel slightly less sorry for myself.
And so I wait. These episodes never last longer than 24 hours.
Happy Independence Day to my American friends!