We're sitting pretty at seven weeks until the wedding. And by we, I mean... well, whatever. I am starting to feel anxious about it all. Thanksgiving will be the next time I try on my dress, and I'm nervous about it. I just want to feel "like a bride." Often I think I'd feel more like a bride if Aaron was here and we could plan some of this together... I don't know.
I have a running to-do list on my wall, right next to my November and December calendars. Everything's ominous right now. Maybe that's why I woke up at 3 a.m. feeling terrible. I stayed still and tried to think myself into feeling better. "Maybe if I just lie here...calmly...this feeling...will...." Nope. Didn't work. My damn bed is lofted and about 7 feet from the ground, so in order for me to get down, I have to dangle over the side of it onto my desk. This is precarious at any point in time, but especially in the middle of the night when you feel like you have to vomit.
But I made it safely. I sat, hugging the porcelain for an hour. I haven't vomited like that since freshman year when I had a really terrible reaction to meds after my wisdom teeth were removed. I don't doubt that a lot of people were doing the same thing as me last night. But I bet most of them weren't sober. I was. And I still puked my head off. TMI, huh. But yeah, so that's how my day began. Instead of climbing Mt. Vesuvius and getting back into my bed, I grabbed a "puke pot" from our cupboard and slept in the living room. I'm sure my roommates will be glad to know I used the kitchen utensils in such a manner. My nice roommate got me 7Up, too, and I had to miss a project meeting. I don't know what it is. Hopefully nothing deadly.
...such a nice post. Good Sunday night, friends. Here's to resting well and vomiting none.
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