Ah, the joys of being alive...to feel the pain and agony of being sick.
"I can be well when I'm dead."
But for now the fever, the knife stabbing pains to the "G" area and the "I" area, and all those other related things that involve the bathroom, not to mention the headache.
Okay let's mention the headache. I don't get headaches very often. I've probably said that about twenty on this blog, so maybe I do. And I'm not talking "dehydration" headaches that were fortified with scotch. I am talking MF pain in the brain due to some virus.
And man I do not do headaches well. I lash out. Viciously. I don't mean too, but really you might want to leave the room. So if I can sleep, it is best to let me sleep. And finally today I got some good shut eye.
I dreamt of a big gathering at my family's house. Everyone was there, except my mother which might explain the chaos. I wanted to take a shower, but the bathrooms were a mess - towels on the floor, water on the floor, clothing on the floor. I was pissed! Come clean up your shit, Dan! (Oldest bro now dead.)
He was in his funny mode as always. I was standing in the bathtub (fully clothed) trying to get the bath plug up and my dad was singing and playing the organ in the living room. Everybody was singing. This was quite a crowded house for the holiday.
I forget the song now, but I knew it in my dream. Dan was in the bathroom with me singing along but wickedly changing the lyrics. I had to laugh. Always the bad boy. Always trying to pull me in to the plot to overthrow the parents.
The plug was up, and the water was draining, and Dan hocked a luggie just to watch it go down. To which I told him that he was my grossest brother. And that is the truth, he was.
And then I started barfing.