Being Sick Sucks. It really does.

And because it is so, it inspired me to write about it.
It all started yesterday morning, when I opened at 5am at Starbucks. It seemed like all people were ordering were really sweet pastries and gigantic venti Frappuccinos. And every time someone did this, it repulsed me. It really did. Now, normally it rubs me the wrong way how badly people can eat--I witness it every day at work. But yesterday, all I wanted to yell out the window of the drive-through and let people know how unhealthy it was, how they shouldn't eat sweets in the morning, and how it was going to make them fat, or fatter in some cases.
I know, I'm very mean. But seriously, I blame it on my lack of a pleasant-feeling stomach.
So just before I leave, I wonder if I am going to be able to make it through the rest of my shift without becoming completely sick.
Needless to say, I did, and I went home. Food sounded terrible to me, so I hardly ate.
Just about the time my stomach seemed to be getting better, dinner came, and I ate a little of it.
I made my way to the living room and turned on the olympics. But I never made it all the way through women's beach volleyball before going to my room in complete sickness.
The long and the short of it was that all night I kept waking up, I hardly slept, I kept going to the restroom because I didn't know if my stomach was going to give me what-for. And then in the middle of the night, I realized I had to work at 6am. Definitely wasn't going to happen.
So I called in sick, which was the only upside to this predicament.
By 10am, I was mostly better.
I still feel a little bit queasy, but am almost 100%.
After much thought and analyzation, my mom and I decided it was food poisoning.
So I am very disappointed in the chicken taco from Taco-C. Very, very much so.