Not much happened today, which is good because I’m still recovering from the stupid virus I had and from not getting much sleep during the end of the week. My guts are rolling around again, so I haven’t been able to do much aside from lay around, do a few chores, read, and sleep. That leaves me with not much to write about at night. I’ve been thinking about what I could write about for about a half an hour while I listen to my guts growl and rumble.

I can’t figure out I get “sick” like this so often, but my sister said I should think about what foods might be causing it. I put sick in quotation marks because I don’t think I’m actually sick or contagious, I just feel bad. No clue what it could be; I don’t think I’ve eaten anything new or out of the ordinary. I did have some romaine lettuce this week (before I heard it was recalled), and apparently it can take between 2 and 8 days before the E Coli hits, but I’m not violently throwing up or anything, so if I did get sick from lettuce, it’s not that bad. I’ll have to start paying closer attention.

Perry the dog is laying next to me having some pretty crazy dreams. He must be barking in his sleep, but it comes out as staccato whimpers because his mouth isn’t opening. His lips are moving up and down in between, twitching, while his front paws are kind of half-running. It might be the most interesting thing going on right now.

It can be hard to write when there isn’t much to write about. I thought about skipping it, because it feels a little like an exercise in futility. I didn’t, though, because I wanted to keep up my end of my own bargain with myself. That seems kind of futile too, now that I think about it. Like, what would it even change, aside from kind of disappointing my ego? It’s not like I’m saving lives or making a huge difference with this blog or this writing challenge. So weird.

It’s probably good. But it feels weird right now. Maybe I’m having a little existential crisis. Maybe I just need to go to sleep.