It started with head and body aches, then exhaustion, then some gastrointestinal distress.
I flopped into bed before sundown. More exhaustion, now mixed with a little dizziness.
I wanted to sleep but couldn’t get comfortable. Everything my joints touched—even my super soft mattress—was annoying.
Then the dreams started.
Whenever I get sick my brain starts feeding me boring, frustrating, repetitive dreams. This time it was about how if I could decode the entries on a spread sheet I would finally feel comfortable and be able to sleep without interruption.
I woke up, thinking it must be about 3 AM. It was 9:34 PM. It was going to be a long long night.
I kept waking every hour or so, cranky, frustrated, not wanting to move but unable to find comfort.
Sometime after midnight my bowels sent out an urgent message. Aaaaaaaahhh, that helped. I came to the untrained conclusion I had given myself food poisoning. Some leftovers might have been too left over.
The sun finally rose and I debated myself. Would I feel better getting up and moving around, or should I stay put and slowly turn into a mattress? The fact I wrote this tells you what I decided. Not feeling too bad.