Thankfully it doesn't happen often.

Sleepless night last night. My stomach was still a bit riled by the flu, even though I stuck with plain rice for the second day in a row. As I lay tossing and turning Scrooge's encounter with Marley leapt to mind at one point:

"Why do you doubt your senses?"

"Because," said Scrooge, "a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"

Instead of Ghosts showing up at appointed hours, I just rolled back and forth watching the clock ~

9:43

10:18

11:02

12:25

At some point I fell asleep and had one of those I have to get there dreams. Dreams tend to fall into two categories for me - impending death and fear of being late or missing an appointment. Last night I had to be someplace and the cat, Pewter, was doing something to make me late. I was in a frantic need to get him back... someplace. Then I'm in a motel room with a parking lot outside the door and I'm talking to someone I have to get him back before I can leave!, completely panic stricken. After crawling under cars and fretting because I was ruining my suit I finally got him and put him into the cat carrier.

Then I woke up. 3:11 am. Drenched in sweat and I felt like my heart was going to explode right out of my chest.

I'm don't know what triggered this dream. It's always when I'm under a great deal of stress that the panic or death dreams show up. My body's been under stress with the damn flu, but I'm not, so I'm at a loss to explain last night.

I didn't bother going trying to get back to sleep. I got up and stripped the bed and started doing laundry (ain't you glad you ain't my neighbor?) and then took a shower. It was now nearly 4 am and I'm casting about for something to do. I thought about going into the office and might have if it wasn't 10 degrees outside. Didn't feel like playing Xbox or computer games so I flipped on the television. 4 am. Infomercial Heaven.

I want whatever drugs these people are on. Have you ever watched these infomercials? These people have got to be high or insane because no sane, sober, person can be this happy. They're freaky and hypnotic, but by 6 am I had had enough and made my self some toast, boiled yet more rice (in chicken broth!) to take to work and left by 7 am.

My head will crash on the desk sometime around 1 pm today.

A HIGH of 24F

It's slightly warmer today and I'm feeling human again. If you end up with the stomach flu, you have my sympathies.

At the beginning of the year I sorted through boxes I hadn't unpacked since I moved in April of 2005. I figure, if you haven't looked at something in nearly two years it's time for the trash.

Very little has been trashed, however. I'm turning into a pack-rat.

One of the things I came across was my violin. I haven't played it since 2003. Raven, amazingly, remembers the violin. As soon as he saw the case last month he took off. Yeah, I'm that bad. I scare cats. I propped the case up next to my bed and he gives it a wide berth. The other two cats came into my life after I stopped playing so they haven't been traumatized. Yet. Yeah... I'm thinking of playing again. Just to screw with the cats, you see, not because I actually enjoy it. I haven't found the sheet music. It should have been in the same box as the violin. I'll have to buy some new music, or find some online.

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.