Bleurg. Am sick.

There was no indication I was sick, or even getting sick, until I attempted to get out of bed this morning. From there, it went seriously pear shaped. I rolled out of bed as I do every morning, except this time my legs didn't co-operate and I ended up in a heap on the floor. Not being a morning person, I assumed this had more to do with me being half asleep than anything being amiss in the health department. But, it turns out I was a bit wayward in that assumption. I made it as far as the bedroom doorway, to find that the following half hour was a colourful combination of me either folding like a card-house in a breeze, or throwing up, or both. Still, at this point, me being me, I was of the opinion that gritting my teeth would lead to a successful attempt to continue getting ready for work, and so I had a shower. As you've probably guessed, Al came home from work to find in the bottom of the shower looking a little worse for wear, and dumped me back in bed.

The trick appears to be not to move. Moving is very, very bad.

Back to bed.