Last week I had a forty-eight hour period when I threw up every single thing I ate or drank. So J nagged me into getting some anti-nausea medication.
Which doesn't actually work. Ok, it does a little, I don't currently want to die, but I still throw up and I still feel nauseated so I am not sure that was worth my ten dollar copay plus my kid possibly having a fin.
I have officially tried everything and the nurse recommended no longer drinking water, stop taking my vitamin and sacrificing a virgin at midnight. But who knows any virgins in this day and age?
So mainly I am just lying around, eating tiny snacks in small slow bites and waiting for these fucking weeks to past. While trying to manage during one of my busiest times at work.
I haven't actually thrown up on my boss or anything though.
In other news J is getting in shape. Part of me applauds this decision as men in his family have a nasty habit of dropping dead awfully young. The other part of me resents him trying to look all foxy while I am just trying to find pants that button. He has big plans to get cut arms and email them to my friend L in hopes that I don't know, that she will pass out in ecstasy?
A guy can dream.