a mess

so my in-loves come to town this past thursday. i decide to get the twenty-four hour bug (more like the 67 hour bug and counting) saturday morning exiting both ends (TMI...i know), and david leaves me yesterday for a week in canada. the in-loves leave this morning. i wisp to work having lost weight over the past couple of days wondering if i would make it through the day. i last until one o'clock and head back home for the couch. i am already emotionally stirred by the morning's paper on 9.11 and the haunting memories i have stored in my mind. so i am at home feeling pretty puny missin' my baby wishing that my stomach would stop cramping. to make matters worse, my aunt from the red sea visited me yesterday...what a combination. sorry, men...TMI. women, you feel my pain. so with the option of three soap operas or divorce court compliments of our rabbit ears, i resort to our case of dvd's. why i chose castaway, i don't know. i love this movie for some reason, so today i was on my, i guess, fourth viewing. i guess i like it because i don't have to concentrate on people speaking, or i don't have to figure out what's going on. i also love how it portrays the essence of time with profound, unspoken symbolism. similar to the previous three times, i begin sobbing when wilson is torn away by the sea and continue to sob until the end of the movie. the movie has an amazing ability to draw you into hank and hunt's character. this fourth time around, i was so much more aware of the comments and the surrounding set after hank had been rescued. we take so much for granted...so much. man. i flip the news on to watch more 9.11 memories only to surface more tears. i dawned on the fact that i had not prayed a single prayer for any of the victims' families and all involved on that horrible day. so i am sitting on my couch with snotty tissues pretty much a wreck still missin' my baby wondering what i was going to do about addressing my stomach. i go into the kitchen only to walk into a war zone of flies! flies buzzing all around me. i couldn't count...i panic...what the? i frantically looked for the source finding...nothing really. i trashed three red peppers on the counter and a banana that had been cut in half. nope. turned on the disposal. nope. all the while pulling matrix moves avoiding the frantic dive bombs. i put the trashcan on the back mud room and come back in to the deafening force field. i get a kitchen towel ready for retaliation. did i mention i hate flies? bam...broke our plastic paper towel holder (didn't like it anyway...). determined to stop the insanity...i licked three down in a row...just call me chuck norris...or rather mrs. miyagi. it was amazing. three dead flies wrapped up in a paper towel in the trashcan on our back porch. kitchen towel in the dirty clothes pile. silence. feeling good and wanting to reward myself, i scooted up to sonic for a chocolate milkshake to coat my stomach. it's a few hours later...and all i can say is...my eyes are still swollen from sorrow, and my stomach still hurts and that concerns me. maybe i am just constipated from all the lomotil i took to stop the diarrhea. yeah, hopeful that's it. anything past twenty-four hours means something is majorly wrong with me, right? i am a hypochondriac...i will settle with constipation though and call it a night. out.