I had to leave my kick-boxing class early last night. I was feeling kind of gross and bloaty upon leaving work, but I chalked it up to coffee OD. Usually some hearty excercise is enough to get me feeling better. However, after warm up and a round of jabbing and crossing while madly leaping around the room, I felt rather nauseated, and my body was hurting but not the good way it usually does during class. So after attempting another round of increasingly high kicks and round houses, I decided I needed to go home.
By the time I got home I felt absolutely terrible and shaky. I threw on a movie (rewatched The Trotsky - you can see my review here), and nearly fell asleep during it. After putting the girls to bed, I tried to sit up a bit, then promptly ran to the bathroom and threw up, after which my body temperature dropped about 6 billion degrees and I was shaking uncontrollably.
In opposition to my usual night-owlishness, I went to bed around 9:45, under my duvet and a couple more layers of blankets. I dreamed weird dreams, of which I remember little except for their weirdness. Woke up drenched in sweat, and cursing my alarm (what else is new?) For reasons unknown, even after a dizzy spell in the shower I still made my way into work. Chomping back some ibuprofen seemed to help with the aches, but now I'm home and chilly and gross again.
The kids are eating Pizza mini's for dinner, because I'm totally half-assing it on the mom front tonight. I'm hoping they clean their room without a fight, because frankly I'm too blah to really argue about it.
Time to retire to the chesterfield. Yes, I said chesterfield. This bugger is too damn big, heavy and unweildly to settle for the mere label of couch.
All shall quiver in the face of the immensity that is the