My little brother used to do this: get so worked up about an approaching holiday that when Christmas or Easter or some other goodness hit he would awake in an explosion of vomit.
Sick.
I've been spared the effluence, but when the fever that sneaked in on Tuesday rocketed skyward on Wednesday it became more than clear that the bag I packed optimistically the night before for London wasn't going to board that evening flight to Heathrow, and neither was I.
So no London for me. At least not until the Spring.
See you then, Friends.
5 comments:
Sorry, Dayna. Take care of yourself.
thanks, Bonita. I've survived worse. ;) & will do.
That stinks. Hope you're on your way to feeling better. I'm sure London in the spring is even lovelier.
Hilarious. I almost left a FB reply mentioning my childhood plight. Easter wasn't so bad, I still get sad about my 5 or 6 year old birthday party.
Love you!
there was a terrible beauty to it that one time you slept through the explosion and it caked on your eyelashes like dew drops.
you would have looked like a dying rockstar if you hadn't been so tiny and pink.
love you too, G.
Post a Comment