a brief confession...

Ok, so I have consumed coffee in the past, though never regularly, and I will likely continue to occasionally consume it in the future. And this blog isn't just about why I don't drink coffee- it is more an excuse for me to ramble, give unwarranted advice, and talk about my running and adventures- but damnit, I'll take a cup of tea over coffee any day.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

I feel awful.

Absolutely awful.  I woke up this morning (it was still dark out) feeling like I'd swallowed a poisonous, spiky bowling ball.  I went to the bathroom to try to address the issue with no luck.  I went back to my room to check what time it was, thinking "it's probably almost time to get up anyway," only to see that it was 1 am.  Damnit.  Trying to lay back down seemed to elevate my internal agony-level, so I migrated back to my futon with the plan of sleeping in a sitting-up position with the futon in couch-formation.  This seemed to alleviate some of the pain, but all that moving around seemed to get the bowling ball excited, and it started doing gleeful somersaults in my stomach.  Unsure of what this new development would lead to, I grabbed the large pot I use for brewing beer from my closet and placed it close by on the floor, ready for whatever disaster might strike.

Well, I started to fall asleep with the pain coming in gentle waves, saltwater lapping tenderly at my open wounds.  You get used to anything after a while, really.  My neck started to hurt so I started to gradually work my position back toward something more comfortable.  I went too fast the first time and found myself reaching for the ole brewpot, but after sitting back up I realized it wasn't yet its time.  Now, more slowly, (we're talking over the course of 2 or 3 hours), I was able to eventually settle into relative comfort lying on my back.  Sweet, sweet, intermittent slumber.  Eventually, around noon, I dragged myself from my room-made-torture-cell and sat down on the couch next to my roommate, still feeling like the walking dead.  I explained my evening and my current state-of-being, and you know what the first thing she asked me was?  "Can I get you some tea?"  Ah ha!  I might feel like death, but that bowling ball of agony has receded into something feeling more like a softball of extreme discomfort, and I'll be damned if tea didn't come out on top of coffee once again.  

Unless you're truly an addict and convinced you're going to die anyway, you would never EVER drink coffee on an upset (tortured) stomach.  Tea on the other hand can be quite pleasant. Honey vanilla chamomile or peppermint tea please!

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