Yesterday, I was suffering from food poisoning.

While in the midst of it, I thought, “Surely, I am going to die.”

Then I thought, “Ohmigod. What if I don’t die?” because I felt like twenty different kinds of shit.

I had to drag my deathly-self to the store and buy my own Sprite and bendy straws and saltines, because I don’t have a boyfriend to do those things for me. It’s times like that that I really wish I had a boyfriend. That and when I need someone to pick me up from the airport.

I cannot discuss what it was I ate that made me ill, because the thought of it makes me become ill again. It is also possible that First Tuesday made me ill. It made me ill the first time.

There’s more to be said about that, but frankly, I still feel like ten different kinds of shit. Not twenty this time, just ten, but that’s still a lot. Too much to write something that takes a lot of energy.