Note: not heartwarming in any way.
Guten Tag. What did you get for Christmas? Consumer electronics goods? A complement to your home entertainment library? A puppy? Because I threw up. Aaaaall day I threw up, starting a couple of hours after I got out of bed and ending about 1:00 am, when pure fatigue overtook my nausea.
I really hate throwing up. When nausea threatens, I withdraw into myself and project my consciousness onto the project of not throwing up. Deep breaths, non-pukey thoughts, silence and stillness. I become a monk of the calm stomach. But Christmas broke me, made me throw aside my monastic vows and glue the tonsure back on my scalp. By the sixth or seventh trip to the bathroom I'd given up on all my fancy mind-over-vomit techniques. Instead I resigned myself to chugging water between episodes, if only to avoid burning my throat with dry heaves.
Even though I didn't have a fever, my brain started to fracture and echo around midnight. I started falling asleep in my seat and having strange dreams. The last one I remember before I fell properly and dreamlessly to sleep involved Argentina. According to my dream, Argentina had reinvented itself, to the point that the country had founded a new language and a new system of logic to support the weird recursive referents of the new language. There were no images in the dream besides alternating scissorlike flashes of light (which may have been my eyelids slipping open). There was only a voice, constantly quizzing me on the new speech of Argentina and its preposterous assertions. I struggled to get it right, but the voice kept correcting me. It was grade three all over again. Thanks a lot, Mrs. Houghton.
SPECIAL SOUP-MENTIONING ADDENDUM
Schmutzie made me some soup in the evening which was really good. I asked for her some clear broth and she whipped up this Asian beef bouillon with carrots and onions that made me feel twenty times better. I threw it up and all, but it was great while it lasted.