I really like Valentines day.
Most of the folks in my life hate it and expound verbosely how it is a made up holiday designed to make us buy diamonds and spend copious amounts of money to disappoint our loved one, or to make us feel inferior and desperately alone if we are sans loved one. I think of it as Happy Pooky Day where we can sit in front of the TV in our underpants and play with the kitties while watching some shlocky movie without having to feel guilty for telling the rest of the world we’re busy. I don’t need diamonds for that, or for anything, except maybe grinding down sharp edges. If there are presents, they are things I bought myself and say “LOOK WHAT YOU GOT ME!” to which he replies “I always pick just the right thing!”. Lately there aren’t presents; I am not really in a present state of mind.
This year we made an effort and went to lunch together at Which Wich. My husband went Vegan this year as part of his weightloss regime – trying to get healthy and be able to breathe while sleeping – so it is a bit difficult to find someplace to accomodate his new eating preferences. Which Wich seemed to be okay.
I got a 14″ sub which I was only able to eat a third of; It had ‘olive spread’ and black olives, turkey and avocado, horseradish mayo and garlic. It was delicious. I had a weird instance of swollen mouth/nose afterwards though. I am not allergic to anything save summertime sun and beestings, so it was Weird. I mentioned it when I dropped him back at work, but in the few minute drive from the sandwich shop to his office, it subsided, so we chalked it up to mutant genetics and drove home. I threw sandwich monster in the fridge and settled down for a long Friday sleep. [normally I stay up until Friday Night to sleep so I have the whole day, but I had gone a few days of not being able to sleep – so I took advantage of the afternoon as Valentines Nap] He came home and we started watching some horrible reality based cooking disaster show where the hosts all make the contestants try to cook insane shit and berate them endlessly for not living up to impossible standards, then go “off screen” and laugh at how badly these folks are doing…I’m not into them, mostly I want to hurl hot soup crockery at the hosts. Through the television. Pook has the whole friggin set of the shows on DVR. Lucky me.
I dozed off just before rage set in and awoke at some early time after sunrise on Saturday morning. I medicated my kitty (ear infection) and Pook woke up. We got dressed and went grocery shopping. The store was sorta but not really busy, we went to the HyVee near our house. It’s too expensive but its nearby, and it has a Vegan section we hadn’t explored yet. They say never go shopping when you’re hungry. I had a sickish/hungry feeling the whole time we were shopping and came home with a bunch of weird stuff Pook classifes as Not Food – he was going to cook lunch but I still had that monolithic sandwich. So I tried to eat some more of that, was able to eat about half of what was left. Still delicious, and the flavors had melded into something really better than yesterday. Again, I had the same weird face/nose swelling. I curled up on a chair in the livingroom while he turned the television to some reality show about mining gold in the mountains or oceans of Alaska and I fell asleep. He woke me later that evening up to go to his brothers house for dinner and games. I’d slept the whole day, I hadn’t even brought all the groceries in (it’s freezing outside everything was safe in the car).
I felt just terrible, hot and cold and achy, figured I’d caught a cold. I didn’t go, he caught a ride over there with one of our good gamer friends and I stayed home and dragged in all the groceries and put them away then fell asleep again. He came home – I vaguely remember because the horrible cooking thing came back on TV. He went eventually to bed and I shut the shit down. But – I had a vague feeling of doom. The kind where there is either something you forgot to do that will get you fired or burn down your house or will kill you and your family if you don’t catch it. I sat up a few hours waiting for the hammer to strike (this happens sometimes, had happened a few times earlier in the week making me miss literal days of sleep) but there was nothing – so I drifted off again.
I woke at sometime o’clock early sunday morning with a vague tummyache. I’d fallen asleep on the chair in the livingroom with pants on, sometimes the waistband can make my tummy muscles ache if I don’t take em off before I go to sleep. I remedied this at once, and got worse and worse and worse. I am not going to get real graphic except to say I managed to contain the disaster to the powder room and managed to scream Pook awake to go get me some medicine (he was neither happy nor gracious about it, but he went rather than unwillingly sympathetically vomit too). That was yesterday morning. That was the only point this whole weekend wherein I was actually awake, and I wished I was dead. I spent the day alternately ‘purging’ and imbibing pepto and ginger ale to put out the inferno in my tract. The rest of my sandwich is in the trash.
We didn’t game yesterday – which pisses me off, even though it’s totally my fault. It was my sandwich. I didn’t have any more ‘instances’ after 8 o’clock, stayed good thereafter so I came to work. I’m not tired, so that part is good. I’m still a bit queasy, but nothing like earlier. I still like Valentines, even though this one was a bust. Maybe we can try Valentines this afternoon instead. I’m willing to give it a do over.