*Shakes fist at sky*

It is a truth universally acknowledged (in my life), that when something good, great, definitive, and/or epochal is about to happen, or is in the process of happening (in my life), I will throw off all my many layers of robust good health and become desperately ill.

On Monday, I am meant to begin a new job. This past Wednesday, I was viciously felled by what turns out to be the worst sort of stomach virus going; this, Saturday evening, is the first time I’ve been able to sit up at my desk for more than 10 minutes in a row. I don’t know what I’m going to do; I’m trying not to make things worse by worrying a great deal, which is my inclination.

Mostly I’ve been sleeping through what I can, laying in bed for extended periods of time too weak even to read, trying to take care of my husband who was also felled about 12 hours after I was, and do the bare minimum for my beasties who are being sorely neglected.

Fat Jeoffy isn’t holding it against me. I took this earlier today when he had me pinned; not that I was moving anyway.

Fat Jeoffy comforts me

The bunnies, however, are expressing a great deal of rage: Sophie keeps kicking everything out of the litter box and poor, old incontinent Greg is pissing more liberally than normal on the floor. I have to rest every time I clean up after them.

This has happened before, the most notable fist-shaking occurring about 5 years ago. After 8 long years slogging away at my dissertation, I was in the final stretch. I sat down one morning to write the second half of my conclusion, having written the first half the day before. The last thought I had before I fell to the floor in sudden and mysterious agony (it was a kidney stone; my supervisor advised me to read Montaigne’s essay on his own exciting times with kidney stones) was, “My goodness, this is really enjoyable! It’s been so long since I loved my thesis–” Boom.

Well, then. I think I might sometimes understand what the Calvinists are getting at (Is it the Calvinists? You know, the ones who think fun is bad. Maybe it’s the Salvation Army; I went to a SA wedding once and no dancing was allowed. That was distinctly un-fun.). I do seem to pay hard in advance for the awesome things that come my way with disturbing regularity.

Lament done, I need to go lay down again.

I hope to have a new Brain/Food up soon.

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11 thoughts on “*Shakes fist at sky*

  1. What rotten luck. I know it’s a hard thing to have to ask, but surely your new employers would rather you took a couple of extra days to get yourself better than you took the bug into them and felled the entire work force? Take care of yourself.

    • It looks like I’m post-contagion now…but I’m being very careful. Indeed, I think this might have made me a germphobe, which will be no fun at parties but will keep me and everyone else healthier. ;p

    • You’re welcome anytime! You know that. :) But until Mr B and I are allowed to sleep in the same room again, we’ve got nowhere to put you. You’re always welcome for Festivus, of course.

  2. Well, this all sounds MOST unpleasant. I’m glad you are at least on the mend — best wishes for your first week at the new job!

    • Yes, some cliches really are based in truth it seems. I’m mostly feeling normal now but am still not back to normal eating. I can only seem to comfortably manage things like soup and oatmeal! Too old for this.

    • He was so pleased. Mind you, I caught him eating another cat’s vomit this morning, so he’s obviously not trustworthy at all.

      I’m on the mend. Grateful it’s the weekend though. :)

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