Sick as a Dog and Six Times as Mean

Got up this morning. . . as a matter of fact, I made it out of bed relatively easily for it being the first time this week I had to get up at 6. Do you know why?

Poppycock Theater.

Today is the amazing Steve Carey's birthday and he started his new comic. Last night, he said "Guys, it will probably not be up at midnight. You should wait until morning to be safe."
Well, his midnight is my six in the morning, so I ignored his warning. No, it wasn't up precisely at midnight, but I had a bowl of Cookie Crisp and made it out into the mush that is a post-snow morning.

By the time I got to school, my innards had twisted into a firm and painful knot. I chilled during first period (my free period), hoping that the distraction of class would release me. Reli turned out to not help at all, and then there was Pause and then came Bio, where we had a pop quiz thing that I got half-credit on max. Half-credit isn't too terrible a grade, actually. In any case, I decided by then that I could not make it until 5, and that I had no interest in staying at school another moment. So I left, and walked through the rain to the train station, arriving, of course, 10 minutes after the train left, meaning I had a 50 minute wait ahead of me. I staked out a chair inside the station and tried to make the time pass. It went slowly. At some point, I found myself outside, throwing up into the snow. Fortunately, the train came, and I got on it and made it to Hochzoll, where I literally just caught the bus in my first piece of luck all day. I came home, told my host mom I felt terrible, and went upstairs to discover that Poppycock Theater had been released on the world. It gave me great joy, and I went to bed and slept until maybe two hours ago, when my Betreuer made one of her random check-up calls, and then I decided I was awake.

I am trying to decide if I trust myself to eat anything. I may grab some bubbly water.