Carlie has not been to school this week. Today is Thursday. She has a stomach bug. She is queasy and runs a little fever every now and then. When she is not laying in bed, clutching her stomach and moaning, she feels pretty good. It's been back and forth like this since Sunday. I described her symptoms to her doctor, who happens to be out of the office, at home with her son who has the stomach flu, and the doctor said, yeah, probably that nasty stomach flu that's going around. So, yeah, awesome.
I moved a truckload of boxes over to the townhouse last night when Tim got home from work at 8:30 pm. When I got home at 9:30, Tim is in bed on his laptop, and Carlie is sound asleep and snoring like a lumberjack. In our bed. UGH.
Tim relocated to Carlie's bed. I slept in my bed with Carlie, wherein *slept* = OMG I AM EXHAUSTED FROM NOT SLEEPING NOW, THANKS.
The point of this post: I think I am sick now. I woke up feeling queasy and nauseous and Tim felt my head and said I felt warm, even though I am under the covers and shivering.
I am self-aware enough to know that this is very likely psychosomatic. Wherein *self-aware* = yeah, so, I'm fucked up, at least I own it.
UPDATE: Took a shower, ran some errands and feel less vomity. Screw you, psyche! I win!