The Perils of Wynn Anne

If you haven't seen "The Perils of Pauline" yet, do.
It is one of our family's favourites.

So I ask you, if being terribly sick in bed isn't a good excuse to blog, what is? If I can't share the insights gained through my delirium, why have deliriums, I ask?

On Saturday evening, Steve and I joined our neighbours for a pot-luck gathering. I love pot-luck dinners because everyone brings his or her specialty.

Unfortunately, someone's specialty happened to include some kind of food poisoning. I was up all night being ill. Here, for your pleasure, are the contents of my Dyspeptic Diary..

• My most offensive observation: vomit is considerably less disgusting if you close your eyes until well after you have flushed. [Can't believe it took me almost fifty years to learn that one.] 
• Once my body was empty of everything but blood and tears, I tried to sleep. I failed. Instead, I developed a spontaneous attack of restless leg syndrome - which I have never had before. Trying to keep my legs still for more than thirty seconds was almost painful, and at several times I found myself pedalling in bed! (Another reason to be glad I had banished Steve to the guest room.)
• Okay, another TMI observation: there are benefits to having a bathroom so small that one can simultaneously sit on the loo and spit into the sink. Just sayin'.
• Also, I was cold - which I almost never am - but not feverish. I wore two pairs of pyjamas and slippers and still needed more blankets. 
• Once I was confident I wouldn't need to hop out of the tub, I soaked for a good half hour. This calmed the RLS and warmed me up so I could sleep. 
• Whimpering and moaning just happen. Whimpering = sudden, sharp pain. Moaning = slow ache or wave of nausea. 
• Dyspeptic dreams really are the stuff of Scrooge.* I dreamt that: 
• For hours, every time I nodded off, I found my thoughts were being auto-published to a website. This is very disturbing. And boring.
• My mother drove a massive RV mobile-home into another car and pushed it around the corner. This did not appear to be accidental.
• My father drove a car into a marshy area, with me as a passenger. He alone knew the path safely through it. (There was certainly no room for an RV on this path.)
• I went to great pains to get up early and fly to Toronto for a course, only to find that the course was in Ottawa. I lost my camera at the check-in desk having never even left Ottawa.
• To get back home from the airport, I had to trek through the airport, and what appeared to be Algonquin College and the National Arts Centre which were all conjoined. 
• I stumbled upon a trove of all the toys and craft items that Steve and I have given away over the years. I coveted them all (well, almost all of them).

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A true "break fast" in bed.

So there you have my night's tribulations. Thank you for sharing them with me.

Between sleeps, Steve took tender care of me, delivering my first meal. Which was very touching until I discovered (today) that he was scarfing down the tiramisu that I had set aside for later.

I awoke this morning feeling dizzy and achy. I tried going to work (to a course, in fact, in Ottawa), but turned back. I'm feeling much better now and would happily eat some tiramisu if there were any in the house. 

* Scrooge says to the Marley ghosts, "You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"