New years eve:
In spite of the party going well and having fun I didn’t feel too good, and went to bed early.
January 1st, 2011: Praying for death or morphine.
Waking up at around 6 (while a part of the party was still partying in the room outside my apartment), sick and in a really bad shape. The hours that followed included me living on the bathroom floor with a fever and a head-ache, and constantly, accidentally waking my brother (sleeping on my couch) due to a very involuntary and forceful expulsion of the contents of my stomach through my mouth. (Sorry for the graphic nature of this description, I tried to Wikipedia “vomiting” to find a word that sounded less gross… I failed.)
I listened to my friends gradually waking up/sobering up and arriving to make the most epic breakfast ever. Which I didn’t even manage to eat.
The rest of the day I spent with my family, hardly eating and feeling sick.
January 2nd: The evil takes a short break to allow me to savour the smell of stale alcohol and cleaning supplies.
I felt sick, but well enough to go home and clean up after the party. Due to awesome friends there wasn’t much left to do, and even that I got good help with.
Drove home (Oh, yeah, by the way: I got my drivers license last week…) and had dinner with family. Feeling better, but stayed the night just in case.
January 3rd: The evil returns.
Went home as my mother went to work, confident that I would spend the day preparing my move. After attempts to clean out my closet I realized I needed some sleep. Woke up 2 hours later with a fever and feeling sick. Again.
Read an entire book. Slept some. Sorted through some clothes. Took a break to write this.
How are you impressed with my new year? Wishing you could be me right now?
I know, my life is glamorous…
-Frida
Also: In celebration of the fact that I’m leaving in 9 days I tried finding a song with the title “9 Days”. This is one of the songs I found, and it reminded me of Five for Fighting, which is a good thing in my book.
