Woke up at 5am feeling uncomfortable.
The bedsheet felt sticky; my head, thick with wool; my stomach bloated.
I could not return to sleep, so I walked around the pitch-dark living room, assailed by both the need to sleep and puke.
I puked up some undigested dinner as my head spun around some. Undeterred, I crawled back onto my bed, and found that if I laid prone, the urge to retch returned. And so, I sat upright on my bed, hoping to meditate and perhaps keep the yuckiness in abeyance.....
....And I fell asleep sitting up.
When I woke up, my arms and legs were numb, and a wretched bloatedness had made camp in the pits of my stomach. Fatigue washed over me: as if I had fought a quiet battle across the invisible fields of my neurological system and lost.
As I sat, contemplating the discomfort I am feeling, it occurred to me that it might have been something I ate last night; or perhaps the quantity of that previous meal.
In anycase, here I am. Feeling sorry for myself; not wanting to move around much. I would go lay on the bed, if I could, despite the general lack of quality sleep: I can't. I can't even sit without feeling arkward and fatigued.
This sucks.
