All was quiet on the Western front. I was snuggled in tight, cuddled up and reveling in a great day complete with accomplishments aplenty. Dozing away in the bliss of tranquility, I was lulled into a false sense of security. It was then they came for me...
It was around four in the morning, I was
snoring slumbering in a sea of happiness when BAM! They bashed me in the head with a two-by-four. With spikes on the end. Covered in acid. And my brains oozed out all over the place. At least, I am pretty sure this is an accurate account of events...I was too busy regurgitating everything I had eaten in the past five years to be sure.
I don't get sick often...in fact, hardly ever. Who has time for sick? But when the Cooties come a-callin', they do NOT take "Sorry, no room at the inn" for an answer. They move right in, shove your brains and insides to the side, take up residence in places I never even knew existed, and hunker down for the long haul.
It is really hard to feel like a-woman-on-top-of-her-game-I've-got-the-world-by-the-tail-bring-it-on-I-can-handle-anything when my head is buried in a porcelain throne. Not being able to walk upright can really be a shot to one's self-esteem. And nothing shatters the illusion more than witnessing another vomit stomach fluid out their nostrils. But there you have it...the play-by-play of my weekend.
I think the Cooties know. They know when I plan a day off, they know when I create a catch-up agenda for myself, they know when I do not have time to entertain them. They know this is and choose it as the EXACT time to visit.
One day in to hosting the Cooties I was asked how I was feeling. Confident in my
over-abundant use of Advil usual good health, I replied, "Much, much better, thank you!" Silly, naive me...An hour later they pulled the two-by-four out again.
This evening, I can honestly say the Cooties have left the building. However, they definitely left the place a wreck.