Stop the World, I want to get off

It's Monday

And I'm in a really grumpy mood.

It's fuckin' freezing outside. I should have stayed home. I haven't been able to get warm all weekend. Probably because I spent most of it on the floor of the bathroom, heaving my guts out.

Flu, not hangover. Spent a large part of Saturday of hurling stuff out of orifi I didn't know I had.

You know why I don't believe in God? Because when you're so desperate to be relived of your suffering you actually start begging the Almighty you don't believe in to deliver you from the Hell you have found yourself in, and there is no response. Silence. Sweet Jesu, demonic laughter would be more reassuring. But no. Just more hurling and gagging and pondering who in your circle of family and friends are going to laugh when the Emergency Services report you were found dead on the bathroom floor covered in your own... offal. Then the mind starts to wander, to pondering how long you will be dead before anyone even notices. And... will the cats get so hungry they'll eat you and DNA tests will have to be done to determine that it really was you who died on that floor, next to the toilet, covered in puke and all?

Is orifi a word?

I managed to crawl to the couch late yesterday afternoon, dragging my comforter and a pillow behind me. I was quite the lovely sight. Can't imagine why there aren't hoards of men beating down my door, demanding to date me. Rats-nest of curly hair in a ponytail on top of my head - think Pebbles Flintstone, just way less cute. Pasty-faced, racoon-eyed. A tee-shirt with a sweatshirt over that. Flannel drawstring jammie bottoms which once belonged to some guy I dated who's name completely escapes me. Mis-matched tube socks; one blue, one white.

I curled into the fetal position on the couch trying to conserve heat and hit the remote. History channel was too much of a strain for my ick-infested brain. Bravo. Real Housewives of Orange County. If you haven't seen this train wreck, go watch it. Had I not been on Death's Doorstep I probably would have laughing my ass off at these stupid, pathetic women. Between the boob jobs and botox they have more toxic chemicals in them than Love Canal did. More money than brains and sadly they've all spawned beings just like themselves. One of these children has the potential of becoming a serial killer.

I drifted in and out of sleep during Criminal Intent and eventually crab-walked my way back into the bedroom. Three comforters and a flannel blanket and the heat up to 72 degrees and I was still cold! I even let the cats sleep with me for the extra heat they provided.

No, I lie. I just didn't have the strength to move them. They crashed on my body all weekend. Evil furbags. They knew I couldn't eject them and so they stuck to me like glue. At one point, kneeling on the floor next the toilet early Saturday morning, it dawned on me one of the cats was lying across my feet. Had I any strength I would have flushed that offending cat down the toilet!

Probably not. But I thought about it.

I woke up this morning feeling better. Tired, but better. Seriously considered fucking off work and then got in the shower anyway.

Yes, I am insane.

I may not last the entire day. Then again, I might. It's nice and warm in here and I don't want to go back outside. The Sun, it lies. It looks warm out there but it's really, really, really cold.