Wasted week

Too sick to ...
... write
... cook
... quilt

That last one's the tip off that I was firmly parked on death's doorstep. If I've got baby-free time and decide to sleep instead of work on a craft, something is seriously wrong.

I'll spare you most of the gory details ... basically I've had some sort of non-puking stomach flu since Sunday. Last Sunday. 24-hour bug, my foot. I gave in on Friday and went to the doctor, who basically said what the online research I'd done said she would say ... 'not much we can do until we know what it is, so let's have five samples to culture over the weekend, and here's some industrial-strength anti-diarrhea medicine. Oh, and drink something, for god's sake, you're peeing BROWN, you're so dehydrated.'

The prescription was a disaster, doing nothing to stop the symptoms and giving me a world-class case of gas to boot. Imagine all the worst toilet humor you've ever seen or heard; that's what it was like around here on Friday night.

The regimen of drinking water, then Gatorade, then water, then sugar-filled soda seems to be working pretty well ... I wouldn't say I'm properly hydrated, but at least it no longer looks like I've poured my mother's iced tea in the pot when I pee (you know, the tea that isn't properly steeped unless it sat on the counter with the teabags in it for most of a weekend?).

Still don't know what the hell this is or why it's hit me worse than the others I know who have gotten it. And pretty much everyone has gotten it ... Liza got it a day ahead of me but was cured by Thursday, and my playgroup friends and their families have been succumbing every couple of days like clockwork. And as if the actual illness itself wasn't enough, my intestinal symptoms have meant that my body hasn't had the chance to absorb either my birth control pills or my antidepressants, so I got to spend the weekend sick, depressed, and spotting two weeks early. Grrr.

I'm feeling mostly better now, as evidenced by my debilitating desire to clean up a week's worth of household clutter and crap on the kitchen floor (no, not actual crap, although I make no claims about the cleanliness of my bathroom at this moment). I promised myself that I would use Monday mornings (when Liza's at preschool) ONLY to work on freelance stuff, developing patterns or writing or sending out query letters. So far I've been good, only taking one week to do mundane household stuff because we were flying out for Thanksgiving the next day. But I think I'm going to devote this morning (or what's left of it) to getting the house back in shape and relatively sanitary, lest Jason come down with this, too. Wish me luck!