I knew Friday wasn't going to be a good day when I woke in the wee hours of the morning to a pounding head, aching muscles, and a stomach doing flip flops.
I knew the day was REALLY going to suck when the downing of four ibuprofen had absolutely no effect on any of those symptoms - except to accelerate the cramps in my gut.
My eyes started to water, the room went out of focus, and I was wondering why I only kept three extra blankets in the linen closet because I could really have used about six layers of bedding.
Barring the six blankets, I decided soaking in a tub filled with steaming hot water was my only recourse. The problem was I had to tread across a bathroom floor that had suddenly dropped to the same temperature as the frozen pond outside the window.
Lowering myself into the bath, I took a moment to wonder why I had the thermostat for the hot water set at only 180 degrees. Somewhere around 240 would have been far more appropriate.
Morning brightened to mid day but my mind remained in gray fog and I never noticed the approach of night until the timer caused the table lamp in the adjoining room to come on.
Maybe tomorrow would be better. But when my first thoughts at 4:30 Saturday morning were to wonder if the furnace had died overnight and if it would be possible to remove my stomach without a scalpel I knew I was in for another lost day.
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