The Orioles game was a blast, as I thought it would be. We only lost by one run, which was ok because Boston lost as well in terms of standings… in terms of my heart, I will always be a Red Sox fan, because when I was younger, I heard a preacher say that they went to Harvard Divinity School and used to do their homework at the games, which to me looked like the perfect life. When I get to Howard, I will have to switch my allegiance to the Nationals if I want to do that… Walgreens hat included.
I do love baseball with a passion when I’m actually at the games. It’s one of the few games I understand… although I understand football a lot better now that I’ve binge-watched Friday Night Lights.
The problems came in when I got home from the game. I must have eaten something bad, because I didn’t drink any alcohol at all. I woke up in a stew of undesirable things, and just had to put towels down until morning, because I was too weak to carry all my sheets and blankets downstairs and into the wash. I haven’t felt this weak in years. I think I am dehydrated, and I have slammed water and one regular pineapple soda to replace sugar and salt. I stayed home from work yesterday, and even though it has been proven that bosses rarely believe you when you say you’re sick on a Friday, I guarantee that he wouldn’t have wanted to come to my house and check. The word “wreck” doesn’t even begin to cover it. These are the things that happen to single people, because there’s no one well in the house to help you out. I am not lamenting being coupled, just telling the truth of the matter. Being single only really sucks when you’re so sick you can’t get out of bed…. and you know you’re sick when you’re 39 and still only want your mommy.
I am still nauseous to an enormous degree, but I can’t seem to make myself throw up to get rid of whatever is ailing me. I think I will go to urgent care, because it started on Tuesday night, but it wasn’t bad enough to stay home until yesterday. In fact, it started after a pizza from Pizza Hut, and even if it had nothing to do with it and I have the flu or something, I doubt I will ever eat Pizza Hut again. If I did get worse from something at the game, it was nachos with fresh jalapenos, which are a thousand times hotter than pickled, and yet I ate several trying to calm down my sinuses because I didn’t have any Sudafed on me.
Whatever the case, I am not a little bit sick. I feel like death warmed over.
In other news, I got a “how are you doing?” from Hawkeye, and it made my day. I didn’t dump my sickness in her lap, just said “glad to hear from you.” I don’t know if she’s back in the US or writing from Germany, but either way, it lifted my spirits.
But not as much as thinking about urgent care and the possibility of some Zofran.
I should go. More on the flip side.
Stories That Are All True 