Let’s complain about our health problems August 17 edition

Tried to get to bed early last night, had a shitty sleep, woke up with a crunched neck, muzzy mouth and a migraine.

Oh wait that should have read “insane husband woke me up…”. Because he did. At what felt like 4 am but was probably 6 am, when he asked if I wanted to go fishing.

What the WHAT?! I don’t eat meat, I cry when you squish spiders, I do not fish.

Actually I can’t bitch about the fishing, that part’s cute because he has his little fishing outfit and takes Gus down to the fishin’ hole (or river or whatever, like I said I don’t fish) and he never catches anything and the first time he went he caught his hook on a log on his third cast and snapped his rod in half.

Sad panda.

So anyway after I didn’t go fishing at 6am, I did eventually wake up and I took some advil and then tried to eat a smoothie but had to stop and clean the toilet because I was getting waves of nausea and the only thing worse than throwing up (with the retching and the shaking and the sobbing) is throwing up in a dirty toilet.

“Excellent foresight, Madeleine” I said to myself an hour later between retching and shaking and sobbing into a spotless toilet bowl.

Now, four extra strength advils and two magic bags later there’s nothing left to puke and I can’t take any more drugs so I’ve resorted to whining to The INTERNETS.


Also, I don’t own sweatpants (Whyyyyy?) or a TV (Double Whyyyyy?!) and this makes me shake my weak little fists at the powers that be (namely me and my cheapness/snobbery, whatever it is that makes me think owning either of said items is beneath me) because all I want to do right now is curl up in sweatpants and find out once and for all who these Kardashian people are.

Internets, I don’t feel good and goddammit I’m taking you all down with me.

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