i’m too tired to think up a clever title

You know that old school Looney Tunes bit when some character, usually a baddie like Sylvester, fills up with air and floats up like a balloon? That was me last night. All night. Except I just rolled around on the bed trying to a) get comfortable, and b) burp out all of the air. Which I guess is really more Charlie and Grandpa Joe.

It might be my gall bladder just having a meltdown from all of the junk food I ate over the weekend. I didn't actually eat that much junk and I drank one glass of hooch-sangria with juice. On the other hand, I have eaten fried pickles twice in one week, and that might well have pissed off my gall bladder.

Or maybe I do have a stomach bug even tho I don't have a fever and feel fine other being full of air.

Or maybe the cvs (chronic vomiting syndrome) is back. It had been pretty quiet lately . . . too quiet.

Whatever. I'm home on the couch. I puked up my breakfast and all of my morning meds about four minutes after I texted my boss. I'm hungry and cold, but at least I'm past the "I wish I would just puke and get it all out" stage.

When I was still deluding myself that I could work, I really thought I'd spend the day surreptitiously farting since it's unlikely a small pet bird with an irritatingly twee speech pattern would puncture me with a small stone propelled via sling shot. But the excess air, like everything else in my gut, is gone now.

The wee demon is happy I'm home for one more day. And isn't that really matters in the end?