Warning: Not for the faint-of-stomach:
This sucks:
You’re sitting around at 10am, doing your thing, trying to get some work done. You start to feel a little queasy. “That’s odd,” you think to yourself innocently, “I’m not sick or anything.” Time passes. Your thoughts move more and more from getting stuff done to the rumbling feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Maybe I’d better get a drink of water, yeah, good idea.”
So you get up. Walk down the hall way. And then
The reflex
You know the reflex I’m talking about. It’s scientific name is the get-thine-face-to-the-toilet-by-any-means-necessary reflex. You run, bang into the wall and jump into the bathroom. But by the time you get there your mouth has already filled up with vomit. You try desperately to hold it in. The toilet! Woohoo! Three enourmous heeves of half digested cheerios later, you wipe off your face and blow your nose, just in time to find chunks of snot covered vomit in the tissue.
Flush and proceed to clean up.
Cancel all plans and sleep all day. You internally debate the fact that you have a pounding headache but hate to take medicine. Give in at 2am and pop some ibuprofen. You stay in bed until 2pm the next day (today) and now you feel fine.
Yeah, that fucking sucks.
