I had to stop and do some mental calculations today, and when I did, I figured out that I haven't left my house in a week. I've gone outside and across the street to the neighbor's to help Addison feed their dog while they're on vacation, but basically, have not set foot in a vehicle since last Thursday.
Last Thursday, I dragged Addison to Hobby Lobby and the fabric store. Friday, I got a herniated disc in my back. Friday night and Saturday, Addison had diarrhea and the runs. Sunday I didn't feel very well, and we stayed home and watched NASCAR and the Sox. Monday all hell broke loose with my body (Thanks Addman) and I seriously thought about slitting my wrists because I've never spent so much time on the toilet, and on my knees (yes, even more time than in high school) trying not to shit my pants while puking.
Tuesday the fluids stayed in my body (including urine, it took me 24 hours to urinate) but I still had a raging fever. Yesterday, I thought it would be all over. I was wrong. Still feverish and weak.
Woke up today and figured, ok, this is the day when I feel normal again. It took all of about 30 minutes until I was laying on my bed, afraid I was going to pass out. Between that and the bad stomach pains, I'm trying to make deals with God.
I feel for Addison. Adam left for California yesterday and poor Addison is bored out of his skull. One of his good friends moved and another is on vacation, so only the dregs of the neighborhood are around and I guess even only children are selective. Right now we are having "throw the wadded up notebook paper into the wastebasket and see who wins." I'm kicking his ass, like I did at Connect Four yesterday. Sucka.