Day 14

Last Monday, Candice and I were getting a quick and quiet breakfast. It was 9:30 or 10, no, later, 10:45 or so. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been outside on a sunny morning when it wasn't Saturday or Sunday. I was sipping coffee and eating a bagel. I had a weird feeling in my stomach which I thought was just hunger, and I just ignored it. I felt like I could do pretty much anything I set my mind to. I'd just started again on an old story - I wrote the first draft of the first page two years ago. I was writing emails to people in The Business. Everything was coming up with my name.

Cue forward 24 hours, and I'm doubled over with agony while lying on my bed, feeling simultaneously like I had to vomit, burp, eat something, and never eat anything but applesauce and vitamins ever again. The pain was in my stomach, except then it was in my chest, except then my throat hurt like burning, except then it disappeared for just long enough to stand up, have some water, and then go back to bed doubled over in pain.

I'm a hypochondriac, so mysterious ailments generally lead me in two directions: 1) moaning impotently in bed thinking I'm going to die; 2) typing all my symptoms into Google, searching through every medical site I can find, deciding I have some mixture of cholera, heart murmur, appendicitis, pancreatitis, and diabetes, before laying back in bed to moan impotently.

Candice thinks that my body is just readjusting itself to a non-scheduled week. After all, I spent over a year doing exactly the same thing five days a week - waking up, going to the office, eating at the same 4 or 5 tiny restaurants each week, then going home. Personally, I suspect that my own body is rebelling against me. I spent my sickness watching NBC's "Kings" and not cleaning up my shithouse of a room.