I Thought I Was Just A Wuss

Last night the Cuban Assassin made me throw up for the second time.  We were only about halfway through the workout when it hit me, I darted off to the bathroom and, well, you know.

I thought I was just a wuss.  An overheated out-of-shape wuss.  Until a couple weeks ago I hadn’t exercised in a couple months.

No doubt being a wuss was a factor in last night’s hurling, but this morning I woke up feeling awful-er.  Maybe I’m pregnant, Becky says.  Wait a second…

Oddly, feeling this bad is making me feel better about my physical fitness level.  Perhaps I’m not as wussified as I thought.  (Shut up.) Perhaps there’s an actual virus going on here.  Please, God, let me have a virus.

So, all that to say, today is Becky’s day off.  She’ll be sippin’ sweet tea somewhere by herself.  I have the kids and a day filling up with stuff to do with them.  And my stomach is angry with me.  So today I won’t be blogging anything of substance as previously promised.  And if you sent me e-mail or called over the weekend, I won’t be getting back to you on that either.  I’ll be (slowly) playing with my kids and lying down a lot.  (How do you get an eight year-old to take a nap?)

How you doin’?

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