Being sick is not cool.

Hide your buckets, vases and goldfish bowls because I am probably going to throw up in them.

  

Actually I am no longer sick but I was recently very ill and had occasion to remember all of the things that I hate about being sick. 

Super sick. 

After I threw up the first time I said to myself, "that sucked but now I feel better, maybe I will never throw up again in my entire life."

Nope. Incorrect. I proceeded to throw up another seven times.

Warning: if you are speaking to the toilet you are not well.

Further Warning: if the toilet is speaking to you, you are very very unwell.

 We also were not at home but in a strange land so we had to stop at a terribly ugly hotel so that I could cease talking to inanimate objects. 

           Cheap Hotels are a dismal place, the strangely geometric pattern on the carpet spun like a kaleidoscope. The blue, pink, purple paintings which I suppose are "calming" or something mocked art from the walls. I lay comatose on my motel bed, wishing that the saltines would be quiet so that I could fall asleep.

And they said unto me:

A further piece of advice: