Stephanie and I had an e-mail exchange, and she asked if I was sick this year for Christmas. I have a long history of being sick pretty much right on the day, or close to it. Heck, the first holiday we were together, my senior year of college, I got so messed up that I couldn't even sit up. I remember the furnace decided to go out that day too, and Steph called her dad to help. I've missed many Christmas festivities since then.
But this year, I'm totally fine. I theorize that it's because I don't work in a cubicle farm near a hundred people who have kids who bring crap home. Now I work with fewer than 20, most of which are younger than me and sans kids.
Sadly, Diana is not so lucky. I remember hearing her at 7:30 this morning say, "Oh no," get out of bed and run to the bathroom. She's got some kind of stomach flu bad, and a temperature of 100. Today was supposed to be Christmas proper at her brother's house, for which she spent much of yesterday cooking. How much does that suck? No eating any of that stuff, no holding the baby, no seeing all of the nieces and nephews... ultimate shitty timing (no pun intended).
So I'm staying home with her, doing my best to take care of her and read her most awesome gift to me. I wish there was more that I could do. This has been a sub-optimal couple of months for her, what with the vertigo and now this. It's very obviously draining her, denying her of tennis and everything else she likes to do in her spare time, like knit for hours or play Zuma.
Here's to a speedy 24-hour recovery!
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