Yesterday, it started with a nap. A rarity if I ever do so. But if it must be done it is a 20 to 30 minute rest only. Yet, I awoke after an hour of sleeping hard. I immediately wanted to go back to sleep.
Then, I could not be more than 50-feet from the good ole porcelain goddess or god, whatever your preference might be. I still cannot leave this DMZ Longhorn City toto area. A zone that did not formally exist two days ago. My tummy is full of bubbly and not the good kind. It's not good for anyone involved. Trust me on this. I'll spare the details.
Finally, it feels as if a zombie is eating the back of my eyeballs out. Let me tell you what a fantastic feeling that is. My head hurts too. To top things off and make it that much worse, I have lost all sense of my appetite. Everyone knows how much I love my food, the smells, the tastes and the cooking of.
Am I turning into a zombie? Am I in hell?
Maybe, like wine in a decanter, I need air, to relax, to stretch, to become comfortable? I cannot possibly be ill. I have too much to do today, tomorrow and Sunday. Besides, the weather is fantastically beautiful. I have my back door open and it smells like spring. Awesome. I want to walk the dogs, look at pretty flowers bursting out and soak up the gorgeousness of the day(s).
Instead, I sit here telling my seven readers of the fetid stank pit oddball, which is full of decaying nasties; the thing that was formerly known as "me". I'll need to come up with a symbol, just like that guy who is Formerly-Known-As-Prince. Or is he back to being Prince?
Jeebus.
Say a little prayer for me. Please.
Then, I could not be more than 50-feet from the good ole porcelain goddess or god, whatever your preference might be. I still cannot leave this DMZ Longhorn City toto area. A zone that did not formally exist two days ago. My tummy is full of bubbly and not the good kind. It's not good for anyone involved. Trust me on this. I'll spare the details.
Finally, it feels as if a zombie is eating the back of my eyeballs out. Let me tell you what a fantastic feeling that is. My head hurts too. To top things off and make it that much worse, I have lost all sense of my appetite. Everyone knows how much I love my food, the smells, the tastes and the cooking of.
Am I turning into a zombie? Am I in hell?
Maybe, like wine in a decanter, I need air, to relax, to stretch, to become comfortable? I cannot possibly be ill. I have too much to do today, tomorrow and Sunday. Besides, the weather is fantastically beautiful. I have my back door open and it smells like spring. Awesome. I want to walk the dogs, look at pretty flowers bursting out and soak up the gorgeousness of the day(s).
Instead, I sit here telling my seven readers of the fetid stank pit oddball, which is full of decaying nasties; the thing that was formerly known as "me". I'll need to come up with a symbol, just like that guy who is Formerly-Known-As-Prince. Or is he back to being Prince?
Jeebus.
Say a little prayer for me. Please.