Stolen from nalidolly
. These are the top 106 books most often marked as "unread" by LibraryThing’s users.... Bold the ones you've read, underline the ones you read for school, italicize the ones you started but didn't finish.( Read more...Collapse )
Wow, my high school made me read a lot of stuff. And half of it isn't even on this list.
Sheesh. Too many more weeks like this one just passed, and I may kill myself.
Monday: Was not too bad for a Monday. Not my favorite day of the week, but since one-seventh of my life will be spent on Mondays, it's not a good idea to get too worked up over it. The worst part was the three hour drive at the end to my parents' house, so that I could be nearby for...
Tuesday: When I attended my Opa's burial. That would be my godmother's father, who died late this summer of complications/infections from surgery. If "my godmother's father" seems a distant relationship, let me assure you that it wasn't. He and his wife were my Nana and Opa, my third set of grandparents. They were there for all the major events of my life, as much as my "real" grandparents, and I have just as many memories of their house from growing up. The reason for the time lapse between his death and burial is because he was buried in Arlington National Cemetary, and it takes a while to get everything set-up. Even while I was crying, part of me was fascinated by all the pomp and ceremony of a full military funeral: the military band playing, the caisson, the riderless horse with the boots in the stirrups, the twenty-one gun salute.
I think I first started crying when they pulled the flag-draped casket out of the hearse and loaded it onto the caisson, and I pretty much cried off-and-on for the rest of the day. The traffic driving home was terrible, so it took me five hours to get home (instead of three), and by the time I got there, I had a pounding headache from crying. And somewhere in the back of my brain, a little thought has crawled in: someday, that will be my parents. They're only in their early fifties now, and both relatively healthy, but suddenly, another quarter century doesn't seem nearly enough time.
Wednesday: Wasn't going too badly until I got home. I had a lot of stuff to catch up on at work, but it could have been worse. Then I got home, and found out that I had been summoned by the Hampton Circuit Court for Grand Jury duty. On January 5th. Ummmm, not a good day. We will be frantically scrambling at work, five days into the new year. So I called the Jury Coordinator, and said, "What do I need to do to get this moved to a different day?" After I told her why, she explained that the Grand Jury only meets (convenes? hears cases?) once a month, on the first Monday of the month. So it will always be inconvenient, but I am at least now moved to February 2nd, which is better than January 5th.
Thursday: Was OK until a little before noon, when I began to experience alternating bouts of nauseau and stomach cramping. Rebecca offered to drive me home around 1pm, but I said that I had too much work to do. By 2pm, I was ready to recant, and was, in fact, in the middle of triaging my work pile into "can wait" and "can't wait" stacks, when one of my co-workers came in to ask me a question. She took one look at my face, and asked, "Are you alright?" Since I was in the middle of a particularly strong period of nauseau right then, I said, "No." And then my vision started to grey out, and I said, "Oh shit" and passed out on the floor at her feet. Way to traumatize your co-workers, Megan. Good going.
Fortunately, Rebecca was nearby and could divert attempts to call the ambulance, since she's seen this before. Once I came around, they got me loaded up into my car and Rebecca drove me home and tucked me in, so I could zonk out for a few hours. I woke up around 5 to nibble some crackers, sip some water and dilute Gatorade, and then puke up everything I'd eaten all day. What fun.
Friday: A less extreme version of Thursday. I got to skip the nausea at least, but the stomach cramping would put in an appearance whenever I stood up for too long. Yes, I'm an idiot, I went to work, but since I think this was food poisoning, I wasn't contagious and I really do have a lot to do before year-end, especially since I'm taking the 24th and 26th off next week. But I pretty much came home from work, read for an hour or so, and went to bed. I was asleep by 7:30 last night, and didn't wake up until 7 this morning.
And boy oh boy am I suffering from food boredom. I don't typically have a weak stomach; even when I'm sick, if I want to eat it, I usually can. Not this time. I haven't had anything more exciting than a Clementine in two and a half days. Actually, that's not entirely accurate. I haven't had anything more exciting than a Clementine that hasn't bounced back up. This morning, I'm living dangerously and having butter on my toast. Ooooo. I'm so exciting.
But I am feeling a lot better, and I'm really hoping next week will not be nearly so bad. I'm disinclined to tempt fate by saying anything like, "Well, it can't possibly be worse!" because, yes, actually, it could be worse. But I can hope for better...