"Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for hour, and it seems like a minute. THAT'S relativity."
Ol' Albert was a smart man. However, I have my own equally accurate version of that quote. In my humble opinion, anyway.
Here it is:
"Go on vacation with friends for a week, and it seems like a day. Spend the day throwing up, and it seems like a week. THAT is freaking relativity."
So why did I choose to preface this blog post with such a gross, awkward original quote? Well, because this week was pretty awful. It had some high points, but for the most part it was just bad.
It all started with the apparently rancid macaroni and cheese ate late Sunday night. And by late, I mean 2 a.m.
To say I woke up Monday morning feeling queasy would be an understatement. The events that followed are true, and I can prove it, since my roommate, unfortunately for her, was present for this awkward display of athleticism.
So here's some context. I sleep in a lofted bed, which means I'm like 10 feet off the ground. When I climb down the ladder, I always do so facing away from the bed.
Anyway, that morning I was just lying there, when suddenly I knew that in about 8 seconds, I was going to have some major problems. (In other words, I was going to throw up.) I'm quite serious when I tell you that I made it about halfway down the ladder when I realized I was going to spew half-digested mac and cheese all over the room if I didn't take action. Fast.
I super-man dove off the ladder, landing on my stomach on my desk chair. Thankfully, my trash can is located conveniently nearby, and I'm happy to report that 95% of the pesky digestive-system-escaping noodles made it into my little orange decorative trash can.
I'm sorry for that hopefully humorous, yet disgusting description. Actually, I'm not sorry at all. My roommate had to see it in person. Also, she cleaned up the 5% that missed the trash can. Thank you, Katie. You are wonderful.
Anyway, I spent the next 8 hours half dead and throwing up. I had to skip all of my classes, work, and meetings. Plus, I couldn't work on any of the enormous projects or studying I had due this week. I was so thirsty but barely had enough strength to stand up and go get some water. I ate nothing. It was just awesome.
I finally was able to sleep from 5 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. at which time I got up and drank some gatorade and ate 10 saltine crackers. I stayed up late because it took me forever to get ready to go back to bed. Also, I'd just slept for five hours, so I wasn't tired. So I wrote a horrendously depressing monologue for my acting class. I'll post that later.
The best part of this whole shenanigan is I had this assignment for my health class that I had to record everything I ate for three days. And here part of it is:
16 oz. of gatorade
10 saltine crackers.
Yeah, that was like 200 calories. I lost like three pounds. My Prof. probably now things I have an eating disorder.
Anyway, the next day (Tuesday) I still felt like crap and could hardly function. That day was boring and horrible. I got a bad grade and was upset. I don't remember anything except staying up 'til five writing my massive communications paper.
Wednesday was the bright spot in the week. Instead of throwing up all day, I spent 6 hours studying for a wicked hard test. Upgrade, right? Also, I went to Panera and went for a walk in the rain. That was good.
Thursday was fine. The drudgery of that day was really just the norm. No cookie-tossing or fantastically disappointing grades. I just spent 6 hours studying and whatnot. What did happen today, however, was that for the first time in months, the scooter was stolen and moved.
I'm not sure if I told you, but about two months ago, some kids from the area took my scooter for three days, and I went straight up crazy. However, I scared the crap out of them, and no one has taken it since.
Yesterday was different. I stopped by a Prof.'s office to talk with him about classes next semester. The scooter was literally TWO FEET from my right foot. But when I leaned back out the door, the scooter was gone. I'm pretty sure I scared some prospective students when I stormed up that stairs, muttering about beating up whomever had taken it.
I looked around for five minutes or so, getting steadily more annoyed since I was now late to class. Turns out, Don Mink took it. If that name means nothing to you, that's unfortunate. All you really need to know, though, is he is part of the staff at my University. I mean, first students took the scooter, then little miscreant children in the town, and now staff? Really?
Best excuse for being late to class. Ever.
Today, I'm hoping for a better day. I'm glad this stupid week is almost over. Generally I wouldn't be one to use an entire blog post just to complain about my week, but this one just took the cake. It was necessary.
What I learned this week:
1. Never eat macaroni and cheese at 2 a.m.
2. Rain isn't always bad.
3. The scooter isn't safe. From anyone.
4. Einstein was right. This week seemed like a year long.
Peace out, week of awful.