So I spent most of the day Sunday alternating between the bathroom and the bedroom or doing a squinchy walk between the two. I've managed to choke down two bagels to go along with some water, but that is about it.
My boy Wolowitz was very supportive throughout the day. He slept right next to me when I was in the bedroom and he would lay at my feet as I sat on my throne in the bathroom, exorcising the evil within me.
So it was truly lovely, after my latest bout of Cha Cha Cha*, when he jumped up onto the bed to see if I was okay.
Then he puked all over the sheets.
*Cha Cha Cha has been a favorite euphemism used in my family to describe the trots. I have very little idea how it started. Maybe an old commercial for Pepto Bismol ("Diarrehea, cha cha cha")
Note: Remember to play the Bug-Eyed Trivia Challenge every day. Doing laundry now.