Despite the following, I feel better than yesterday.

I thought I’d go downstairs and lie feebly on the couch to watch the kids so TMD could have a break. I haven’t been downstairs in 36 hours, since Aussie left. I still feel dodgy but poor TMD is fucking sick and has had no breaks.

So I pull on my mother in law’s underpants – don’t ask – and as I am walking down the stairs, clutching my sick bowl, I shat myself. What. The. Fuck.

I’m about to try eating an apple. Yesterday’s experience of apple eating led to Nowhere Good. The three am sip of water I had led to Another Bad Place. The only thing that has not slammed me, though it’s still made me ill, is the one tiny mug of peppermint tea I stretched out over twelve hours. My lips are all dry and wrinkly. My mouth feels like cotton. It’s just like HG and early pregnancy (except, in reality, nothing is as bad as HG), even with the four pound weight loss overnight.

TMD really can’t take any more days off work. Let’s hope the apple rejuvenates me, and I can watch the kids so she can rest. Though Snort was awake all night (I was inexplicably awake all night before getting ill, so I hope he’s not about to drop) watching Cars, and both kids seem fairly low energy. I’m also hoping my father in law will go on a mercy mission of bringing ginger ale. This is my childhood sickness drink. I know if I can just get some, it will help. TMD too sick to go out to shops, and I will obviously shit myself in the car park, so let’s all cross our fingers father in law will find some.