WTF

In spite of being exhausted beyond all accounts last night, and in spite of taking two Tylenol PM (which normally launch me into outer space for the next 15 hours or so), I woke up last night at 1 a.m. with a stomach-ache. The norm for me is to wake up at least an hour (usually more like 90 minutes) before I need to throw up; that's just the way my body works. So I lay there assessing, trying to differentiate between "hungry stomach" and "reverse peristalsis stomach." Either way, I wasn't going back to sleep.

I finally decided it was the latter and came downstairs to clean the toilet. I hate hugging a dirty toilet, and since I've got all this extra time before anything urgent happens....

So with a newly clean and sparkling inside-and-out Porcelain God, I curled up on the couch, dozing, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, my feet got cold, so I threw a couple of blankets over myself, and kicked back in the recliner.

At 7, Beast wiggled my big toe to wake me up. I still had a stomachache, but the careful eating of two crackers proved that my diagnosis at 1 a.m. had been incorrect: I was actually ravenous.

Which makes no sense: I had a decent-sized lunch yesterday, several cookies and donut holes in the afternoon (so much for that diet I was on), and a light but substantial dinner at 6. In fact, it was more dinner than I eat some nights. Why, then, am I waking up hungry?

Sigh...so much for getting some rest. The only plus is that I didn't wake up groggy from the PMs, though I'm having a helluva time getting moving this morning. Good thing I leave for work at noon today!