I hate doing nothing

I had my first bout of food poisoning two years ago. A dreadful experience I wouldn't wish on anyone. Your body attempts to purge every ounce of liquid through any means necessary. Two nights ago around around 1 am I had my second bout. Boy was I frustrated. I was tired, was planning on getting to work early because I finally scheduled an optometry appointment, and wanted to sleep but had to rush to the bathroom every 10 minutes. I ended up sleeping downstairs on the couch because I think I was waking my housemate. This lasted around 9 hours.

Everytime I was in the restroom I had the new Karmin song stuck in my head. Who do you think you are a super s-t-a-r? Maybe it was my immune system trying to crash my party.

I was so weak in the morning it took me 3 hours to finally make it back upstairs to my room to sleep in my bed. I looked like a baby who hasn't developed enough strength or coordination to walk. I would look longingly at the stairs, roll over on my blanket with my head stuck to the ground and stay there for 10 minutes before I attempted my next move. Babies have it tough.

I stayed in bed all day. Feasted on gatorade and saltines whenever I had the energy. Secretly hoped my body would use this opportunity to go into starvation mode and I'd wake up with a flat tummy. Nope. Still squishy.

My back was aching all morning. No matter which way I turned or positioned myself I couldn't sleep. I called the 24 hour nurse hotline at my local hospital (they're really nice!) and she said I probably strained it while I was busy puking my guts out. Figures. She suggested an ice pack and a painkiller. I've never been so appreciative of ibuprofen before.

So now I'm stuck at home another day. Too weak and sore to do anything useful. Still restless. One of these days I will learn to relax and just enjoy doing nothing.

My problem with naps.

[From Yesterday...]

I loved preschool. Everyday I went to the giant community church in my sprawling suburban neighborhood and played, learned, napped and played some more. I only had one gripe.

The naps.

My mom would ask me about my day and I would complain about the naps.
What was wrong with them?
I told her "Naps are a waste of life."
Seriously. I was... four? five?

I finally found an appreciation for naps during college. Amidst my 3-hour of sleep a night schedule, naps during the day were a gift from above. But I seem to be reverting back to my youthful thinking. Today my head hurts. A lot. I promised I would stay home this time and resist the urge to go to work with my body fighting whatever virus or bug that is going around. I am home. Last time I only made it to lunch until I hopped in my car and trekked into the office.

I should be napping. I tried. I really did. I had a goldilocks moment. My bedroom was too bright. So I migrated to the sofa in the living room. But the sofa was too soft. So I rolled onto the floor. Squished snugly between the coffee table and sofa I thought I had found my spot. Unfortunately, I am a side sleeper and the ground was too hard. I can't sleep. I can't go to work. I am restless. I have already itemized my goodwill donation, played with the angry birds app, downloaded the new taylor swift album, made rice for dinner, planned everything I want to buy at Target (Toy Story 3 comes out today!) and Safeway for when I am ready to drive and be around other people.

Time to go lie down and... stay there.