I can’t believe it. For the second time in two weeks, I’m sick again. Correction: I’m sick, but almost better…thank God!
Here’s what happened:
On Tuesday night, Iwanski requested that his generous, loving wife pick up some dinner on her way home from work. His loving, generous wife picked up said dinner at Chipotle Mexican Grill. The Iwanskis feasted heartily.
Cut to later that night. Iwanski is writhing in pain (no doubt caused by the aforementioned Chipotle dinner). Miss Healthypants is sleeping through nearly all of it. Iwanski is up half the night. Miss Healthypants sleeps right through the alarm, dreaming that she and her coworkers are dancing to "Ba-ba-ba-ba-Barbara Ann" in the office. Iwanski and Miss Healthypants barely make it out of bed to get to work.
Cut to later that day, around noon. Now Miss Healthypants is writhing in pain. Iwanski has some pain, but is mostly better. Miss Healthypants is just starting to get sick.
Miss Healthypants (who is now Miss Sicklypants) leaves work early, goes home, and sleeps for the next 15 hours, waking only to eat half a container of Ben and Jerry’s Frozen Yogurt (brought to her by her loving, generous husband).
Miss Sicklypants now has a temperature of 100.7 degrees. Having never been prone to running a fever, Miss Sicklypants calls Buck, the King of Fevers. (Buck can get a slight cough and immediately start running a fever of 103 degrees.) Buck reassures Miss Sicklypants that 100.7 is not too bad, and tells her that unless it gets to 103 degrees, she’s probably okay. Then Buck gives Miss Sicklypants some great advice: take Tylenol and drink lots of liquids. This proves to be very sage advice. A couple of hours later, Miss Sicklypants’ fever is broken and she is feeling slightly better. She sleeps several more hours.
Cut to present time. Miss Sicklypants is mostly better, except for the fact that whenever she eats anything, it feels like little aliens are poking at her intestines from the inside. This feels wonderful. (Buck, you got any advice for that?)
So there you go. The story of Miss Sicklypants.
I guess I could just not eat until tomorrow. I could stand to lose some weight, anyway.