{.:.your knees are scratched and your eyes are black.:.}

by aproperfool

Oh Friday, how I have missed thee.

It is time for another glorious morning rant. However, today’s topic cannot be attributed to today’s morning, mind you. It all happened yesterday, but I was not near a computer so that I could share my Thursday. Here it goes!

I woke up yesterday morning feeling…not at all refreshed…at about 6:32 am. But was that first time I was awakened from my unresponsive coma? Not even close. It all started at about 3:00 am. I woke up with a severely upset stomach. I’m not talking about a regular, “Take some Pepto and it’ll clear that right up” tummy ache, but rather, a “Someone is making a fist around my stomach, and clearly trying to rip it out of my insides, and away from its warm resting place” ache.

In general, when awakened with an ailment, I have the mindset of “sleeping will make it better.” Not this morning, though. It was a distinct pain that was capable of crumpling my body into the fetal position as I laid on the bathroom floor–the cold tile as my only comrade, cooling my body in an effort to calm the spasms of my stomach.

When you find yourself in these positions, with the only viable culprit being your beloved Firehouse Subs, you swear to yourself that if you just get “it” over with, you will be fine. If you can just force yourself to purposely endure the grotesqueness of your situation, you will feel better and might return to sleep. I, however, have not honed my skills in producing a catalyst  for making myself endure unpleasant situations. I can barely drink Nyquil, and we all know how beautifully you sleep when you do that. So imagine just how disturbed I was at MY OWN thoughts to induce a reaction.

I never went through with it. I just laid on that cold tile with my purple, wrinkled pillow case under my head. My biggest fear, seeing as I was already next to the toilet, and therefore armed with the only weapon I had, was that I would ruin my brand new purple pillow case.

Two hours later, after I went on a rigorous hunt for anything medicinal that might cure my ailment (I only take medicines when it is the absolute LAST resort). I found nothing, and in doing so, returned to my bed and my crumpled positioning.

Magically healing

I woke up at 6:32 am, only one and a half hours later, and I got dressed, grabbed my four pack of muffins and drove to work.

At work, I ate a banana nut muffin, had an iced white chocolate mocha (with an extra shot of espresso, thanks to Mr. Andree!) coffee, and everything was better. I am positive that a good muffin (or muffin top, in my case) will cure just about any morning.

Unrelated Note: I seem to have a green, leafy substance stuck in my plastic badge holder. I imagine it is quite embarrassed at this–it’s similar to the spinach that always seems to get stuck between your incisor and molar, on the left-side of your  mouth…which is only visible while smiling, making it almost a ghost-like Jolly Green Giant inside of your mouth to your colleagues, who have no immediate plans to inform you of your misfortune.

Song of the day: “Favourite Food” by Tokyo Police Club

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