The world doesn’t stop when you’re vomiting.
This week, I had a nasty stomach bug. Like, the kind where even those in earshot get a little nauseous. It snuck into my life late Monday night and I didn’t wriggle out of it’s slimy green putrid clutches until Thursday night.
It. was. dicey.
I even missed an audition for a piece I was choreographing (though I managed to hop on via Zoom in between visits to the porcelain goddess). I spent a few days in a feverish haze, sleeping fitfully and staggering to the restroom to expel portions of the demon spawn from at least one of my orifices. (TMI?)
The interesting thing about being sick, particularly after returning home from a long trip (I was in Phoenix right before for almost a week) is that…the world doesn’t stop for you. Like, at all.
Like Lucy at the candy factory, that conveyor belt of obligation just keeps on rolling, piling task after task at your bare vomit-splattered toes. When you finally emerge back into the land of the living, dehydrated and partially cognizant, you not only are expected to rally, but you are also expected to press fast forward and catch up with everyone else in the world.
It’s overwhelming to say the least.
Now, let me tell you a related story that will make sense in a few paragraphs.
A few nights ago, I read my son the fairytale of The Princess and the Pea at bedtime.
Y’all? That story is effed up. What are we teaching our children?!? (Don’t worry, I talked about it with my kid afterward).
I mean, first of all, this prince disregards human after human because only one thing or another is wrong with them. Then, his mother jumps to conclusions based on looks alone. THEN, this privileged-ass princess can’t sleep on top of a pile of a $h!t ton of mattresses because of one stupid a$$ pea? Come on now.
Not to get too deep on this people, but it sounds like this princess is going to do a real bang up job as a queen understanding how to represent people with, I don’t know, one mattress. PSYCH! I wanted to crawl through that fairy tale book and punch her in her porcelain moisturized annoyingly privileged ingenue jaw.
I digress.
The point is, this princess has a lot to do with my puking.
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