Hope and the Sicko

Do you remember my 100 things list? Well, refer to number ten on the list and then, if you’re up to it, read further. Otherwise, for those of you who are even remotely squeamish, now might be a good time to go and read someone else’s blog!
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I made a new best friend this past weekend. And I named him Billy. Billy the Bucket. Not surprising, really. Seeing as I spent most of Friday night and almost all of Saturday peering into it’s depths and pondering it’s capacity. I was actually quite excited to be sharing my meals with the bucket, initially. That stupid voice was shouting at me again. That silly voice that still hasn’t learned that I never really WILL be pregnant. You’d think that by now I would have learned to ignore that stupid little voice, right? Nope. Not me. I’m a slow learner. And so I puked into that bucket. Every last drop of everything I consumed ended up in the bucket. And between the retching I grinned silently to myself through the night, giving ear to that dim-witted voice again and wondering… Could it be? Could I be pregnant? Maybe that would explain the dizzy spells and the upchunking? But no, it was not to be. I could kick myself actually. Every possible (albeit inconceivable) opportunity to hope, I do. I friggin hope. And then I kick myself afterwards for even considering the (im)possibility. Really, I should know better by now. Hope schmope. It turns out I wasn’t the only one beset by this tummy bug. There were a few of us talking merrily to the toilet (or the bucket, in my case, what with our plumbing the way it is) through the night…
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So, that is the sad and sorry tale of my lovely long weekend. My parents were here for the weekend but I barely saw them on Saturday as I spent all day holed up in my bedroom with the curtains drawn and my hope suitably punished and stashed back again into it’s hiding place. Horrible Hope Monster.
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As luck would have it, come Monday morning, a workday, I am fit as a fiddle again. Not even remotely queasy. Murphy’s Law, right? Sick as a dog over the long weekend, and the minute it’s work time again, and I might have had a valid reason to be at home, nursing my ego and my sore throat, I am well. Ugghhhh… typical.
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Which reminds me. Here’s my list of things that taste good in both directions:-
Oranges
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And that’s about it. Don’t even try the dry toast and black herbal tea remedy. It does not work. Been there, done that. Take my word for it.

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PS… thanks for all your comments on my previous post(s). For those of you in Yankee Land, a “lounge” is what you would call a “living room”. We also sometimes say living room, but mostly people here just say lounge. I believe it’s the more civilised term. Haha. Just kidding. (And that from a hillbilly!)