On Thursday, I felt like shit all day. The moment my eyes opened that morning, shock waves raced over my skull. “That’s not a good sign for how the day’s going to go…” And then there were the waves of nausea throughout the day… And exhaustion, light-headedness…
It’s not clear precisely why this happened. Too many late nights? (I’d been up until 2am that morning, not entirely my fault, though I am a night owl.) Time of month? (TMI? Tough. My blog.) Random illness bug? Really not sure, but the fact remains that I did not feel well. So I talked to my supervisor and arranged to skip lunch and leave early to catch a ride home with the Housemates (bus has threatened to set off my motion sickness on good days lately).
Once home, I crawled into bed as soon as possible, about 6pm. Lowered the blind at the head of my bed, cocooned myself in the covers, turned on my Zen. Basically doing everything possible to facilitate sleep while the sun was still up.
After five minutes or so, I felt a cat land on the foot of the bed. I stuck my hand out from the blanket and wiggled my fingers, urging him closer. Paws ran over the sheets and up onto my flank.
I looked up to find Keegan staring down at me with a look of utter shock on his face. He looked at the window, back at me. I swear I could hear him thinking, “Mom? In bed? But… it’s still daytime! What??”
Eventually he made peace with this odd state of affairs and settled down to join me in snoozing.
(And, for what it’s worth, I slept from then until almost 7am Friday morning, waking only briefly at 12:30am and 5am. I really must have needed it.)