Thursday night, my stomach decided to take that advice most literally. So my New Year's Eve was spent huddled on the bathroom floor in utmost misery. I'm still not well. This is one of the worst sicknesses I've had in a long time, and it's taking me ten minutes to get up the stairs, so obviously a long run didn't happen today (in fact, I doubt I'll get out of pajamas, for the second day in a row. Yesterday David had to comb my hair for me, I was so weak, so I assure you I did not put real clothes on).
The timing certainly stinks - no toasting the New Year or enjoyable three day weekends for me - but at least I didn't have to scramble to find work coverage.
New Year's Resolution: throw up fewer times all year than I did Thursday night.