Pain without the pleasure...
I was sick as a dog yesterday. I woke up several times in the early morning hours, feeling a bit queer---achey, groggy, and a bit queasy in the stomach, but always managed to fall back to sleep. Finally, I fell into a deep sleep, complete with violent dreams, the details of which escape me at the moment. I awoke again, painfully, at a little past 11:00, amazed that I had slept so long, and yet still felt worn out. The details of what followed are unnecessary, and I will spare you a recitation, as I believe you can fill in the blanks.
It occurred to me, whilst sitiing, for the 2nd or 3rd time, on the bathroom floor, that I felt like I had a hangover, despite not having imbibed the night before. Can you imagine it, the penance without even the pleasant memory of the sin? Like the scene in David Mamet's film Heist, where Rebecca Pidgeon is drinking whiskey, and Patti LuPone says, "Take it easy, baby, that stuff'll rot your stomach lining." Pidgeon's retort is understood by anyone who has developed a liking for whiskey: "Yeah, but I get to drink it first."
In my case, I hadn't even touched the stuff. But, I can understand her thinking: somethings are worth the cost later because of the joy or satisfaction they bring you now.
Today, I feel weak and queasy, but still better than I did this time yesterday. I suppose it was the flu, or something like that.... Very unpleasant.
I was supposed to meet a friend for lunch today, but that has now been postponed 'til next week.
I have family coming into town tomorrow, and I really do not want to be sick while they are visiting.