Yesterday, Mason officially turned seven-years-old. I had pseudo-planned to take Mason out for breakfast Friday morning, but that got cancelled as I woke up sick. It hit me Thursday night, right around dinner time. My stomach was feeling funny which I misinterpreted as being hungry. After eating, it didn't go away. In fact, it got worse. I went to bed early Thursday night but woke up around midnight and tossed and turned in bed (in between trips to the bathroom) and didn't fall back asleep until almost six in the morning, just in time to start getting ready for work. I really, really should have called in sick Friday, but I didn't. Instead I spent most of the day sitting at my desk, trying hard to work and harder not to get sick.

For lunch yesterday all I could get down was a vanilla shake and some cheese and crackers; for dinner Susan bought me two McDonald's cheeseburgers (my comfort food) and I only ate one. After we got home from work yesterday, Susan took the kids down to Snowtubing at the Park (they use artificial snow; no white stuff here yet) and I went to bed. I fell asleep around 5pm and, again save for a few trips to the bathroom, I woke up this morning at 6am, thirteen hours later, feeling a little better.