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I have little to report about the weekend as I was incapacitated with a variety of ailments, the most extreme being a nasty case of the stomach flu that effectivly knocked me on my ass. I need not go into detail about the many attacks of violent vommiting spells which characterized my Saturday night. No need to get into the nitty gritty of the myriad of colors, the spectrum of viscosity or the general potency of the evil that came pouring out of me on Monday.

However I will say that I am so lucky to live with someone so sweet to take care of me and get me everything I needed at all hours, to make sure I took medicine and stayed hydrated, even if from a safe distance to avoid catching this plague himself. You know you really feel loved when you're a vomiting, pooping, fevorish, lady on the rag and with a massive boob rash to boot--you know a real, hot date--and someone is still willing to help you, love you and take care of you.

Little hearts and stuff.

That might be the most vile way to describe something romantic but I guess that's marriage for you.

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