Today is Thursday. I got here a week from yesterday. I feel like I should be going home soon. This is not good.
See, I was counting on the magic of Disneyland and the excitement of independence and all the new, wholesome freshness of it all to distract me and make at least the first few weeks to maybe a month go by really nice and quickly....but twas not to be.
Wednesday, Thursday and Friday did live up to those expectations. Those were great. Saturday was ehhh, ok.
SUNDAY WAS HELL.
Which is totally ironic.
I'm not quite sure what caused it but Sunday night I had the worst case of food poisoning I have ever gone through. E-ver. I've had food poisoning plenty of times so I know what it feels like. The sudden realization and conviction that you will vomit soon so it's just a matter of kneeling at the toilet, holding your hair and waiting. The slight relief just after but then drinking water you know will just come back up in a few minutes and waiting.
Feeling your heart start pumping in your head. Feeling your temperature spike up. Heaving into the place everyone sticks their butts. Shivering afterwards.
I hate it.
But this last time, this was the "that one french phrase that means winner of stupidness" of them all (I seriously cannot think how that's supposed to go...stupid french).
It really was terrible. I was up for five hours straight, in and out of the bathroom. Near the end it got so bad I was just sitting there on the toilet with a trash can in my lap, because there wasn't enough time to switch positions (sorry, I just need to rant about it so you're the lucky receiver). Oh, and did I mention I had just started my period? Hm, are those cramps or indigestion? I dunno, I'll just go vomit a bunch.
The only (and I mean ONLY) boon to all of this was boyfriend's graveyard shift. He was there on gmail (er...G+ for him) the entire time. I even took him in onto the bathroom floor with me at one point, sobbing silently because I just wanted to go home. As long as I was gonna be sick I might as well be home and sick so at least I'd feel more comfortable. FOUR days and I already wanted to pack my bags and hightail it back to the desert.
He was fantastic. Metaphorically, he held my hair. He kept me together...what was left of me to keep together, that is. I kinda sorta maybe love him.
Eventually, he went home from work a little after 6 and I was slowly drifting to sleep as my stomach realized it couldn't heave itself out my esophagus and calmed down a bit. That night I had my first shift of work for seven and a half hours stuck in the main kitchen were all the smelly-smells from about three different main restaurants ends up mixed with the putrid smell of cleaning. And all I wanted to do was lay down and die.
Worst night of my life.
BUT! The next day, after I felt better and had slept for a solid seven hours monday night, I realized how enjoyable this job could be. The smell still gets to me and I don't think that'll go away but the juxtaposition between monday and tuesday was enough to give me the confidence that I could make it through this till January.
I texted boyfriend about it and he texted back, "Good outlook! :D I hope you can keep doing that when we're married and remind me to think like that too, lol"
and then a couple minutes later, "It's one reason I love you :)"
That little transaction made up for a lot of the misery endured.
So anyway, now I'm super paranoid about making myself food and don't know what caused me to get so sick but crossing fingers that it doesn't happen again. Sick is no fun.