For Christmas Aaron gave me tickets to Sting and Paul Simon in Hershey, PA. That concert was last night. Guess who wasn't there?
We were supposed to drive over Saturday and come back today. Early Saturday morning I woke up with vomiting and diarrhea, and believe me, none of this was alcohol-induced. Obviously we stayed home but on Sunday morning I didn't have a fever and wasn't barfing (thanks to a prescription called in by a doctor friend) and wanted to try to make it. We stopped for breakfast on our way out of town and I ate a little bit but ultimately decided it was best not to go.
It was the right decision; I can't imagine being in the car for six hours and then going to a concert. I still felt awful all day yesterday. And I'm super pissed that I missed Sting again. (The last time I missed him was July, 2000, but that was for a happier reason, the birth of our niece Lauren.) Apparently I'm not meant to see him anymore.
So, if you're looking for me today I'll be on the couch or in bed, throwing myself a pity party.