Friday night, my body tried to eliminate itself through my gut and mouth. This has been the WORST season for sickness in the Angel household. We've been passing it around like a 20-year-old fruitcake. I've lost 19 pounds in the month of December, 5 pounds Friday night and Saturday morning alone. My back, chest and tummy muscles feel like they've been stretched out and beaten like an old rug. Breathing is a new adventure in pain. You ever puke so hard, you gasp for air and suck puke up into your nasal cavity? My head felt like fire for a few hours. About 4 a.m yesterday, I was praying for death.
The Cute Chicks are now down with it. Not as bad for them as their last bout, but still not Merry. I'm pushing fluids and vitamin C. We were supposed to make Christmas cookies and candy this weekend, but I'm pretty sure that's a wash. Plans are to pack up and head for my folks' for Christmas Eve, but it all depends on who hasn't died yet. I haven't heard from them yet, I'm hoping they've been spared.
So yeah, have a Christmas, y'all.