Sometime in the middle of the night, I noticed that there was stomach trouble on the horizon. But it wasn’t bad, and I went back to sleep. I woke up to nausea combined with other stomach events. Not a whole lot actually happened - it was more the dread of what felt like it was about to happen.

Then I got chills. Then I got achy joints. Then I shut all the windows in an un-airconditioned room and put myself under my favorite blanket plus our Very Warm Comforter. Then I saw spots.

And I have PMS.

And I have allergies, and we’re out of Claritin. But we have Sudafed.

And I have figured out that while I was not wrong about my seminar paper being due next Thursday, I was not entirely aware of the Good Solid Draft that is due this Thursday. I previously wrote a proposal and a two-page outline and then proceeded to spend my time on catching up other stuff and creating the Broken Ankle Theater Presentation. I have one page of new work plus a few pages of old work. And a bunch of Derrida to read.

I feel like I’m trapped in a cartoon — this is really too comical to be believed.