I started feeling icky last night, so I asked B if we could just chill for the evening. And we did.

This morning I felt mostly fine. I got dressed, grabbed some food for later, and ran out the door with a mug of green tea in my hand. Thirty minutes later I arrived at work. I had just enough time to set my keys down before I had to walk–quickly but steadily–toward the bathroom so I could throw up. And then, just for kicks, I did it again, only more violently because I have a knack for vomiting violently on the rare occasion that I vomit at all.

I started to worry about the fact that on my fifth day in my new job I was already going to have to call in sick and go home, but a part of me wanted to tough it out. I didn’t have a fever, I felt otherwise fine, and since I have an office to myself I can disappear without being noticed. And since I’m already taking Monday afternoon off to move into our new place I felt like I should at least try to stay in the game for a few hours. I washed my hands, splashed my face with cold water, and decided to give it a shot. I took a moment to breathe and then I walked to the break room to grab a 7UP. Sipping it slowly throughout the morning, I made it to noon. I slowly nibbled my way through lunch and then I continued to work through the afternoon. Before I knew it it was 5:00 and I’d made it through the day without any more upchucking.

All day as I sat at my desk willing my innards to cooperate while I worked, I also gave thanks for the fact that I happened to be sick on the day before the holiday weekend. With an already small office, the fact that a lot of my coworkers were either offsite today or celebrating early made it really quiet and ensured that nobody interrupted my privacy for most of the eight hours I had to spend away from my pajamas and my pillow. And that’s a good thing, because when one vomits a stomach full of nothing besides green tea, the result is something very splashy. And when one is crammed into a very small bathroom stall to manage this violent affair, some of the splashy things might end up on the knees of one’s pants.

Yes, that’s right; I splashed on myself. I did a smell check, determined that if I stayed at least five feet away from other people all day long I would be okay, and then I sat at my desk crossing my fingers that nobody would come close to me for the rest of my time in the office.

Gross, I know.


5 thoughts on “Splashy

    1. stocktoc

      Hahaha! No, I’m very certain that’s not the case. But that’s part of the reason why I didn’t want anyone knowing I was throwing up early in the morning; I don’t want them thinking anything like THAT!


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