Rumpelstiltskin and Billy Joel.

5 Mar

Today I felt crummy, icky, poo, icky, icky, poo. All day. And I snapped at an innocent co-worker for no real reason. I hate when I do that… I will go to bed feeling bad about it. I have the WORST case of Catholic guilt any non-Catholic has ever contracted. About anything. It follows me around like a shadow. Terrible. Harr-rible.

Anyway, I didn’t eat a whole lot today but I drink have lots of drinks. Coffee, tea, smoothie, water and ginger ale. None of those really helped either. So I spent the rest of my day with my head on my desk or slouched down in my chair, trying to give my tummy some relief.

On the way home, I realized exactly what I needed to help me feel better. Billy. Joel. DUH! Of course! So I put on the Billy Joel radio on good ole Pandora and away I went. I also got to rock out to the Outfield (you know…. yes, you do. “I don’t wanna lose your loooove toniiiiight. I just wanna use your love toniiiight. yeeeah!”) and Phil Collins. What, I ask you makes you feel better than that? Nuthin’

I also had a weird thought… which really isn’t that weird because I think the same thought every.single.time. my tummy hurts…”Am I pregnant?!?!!?!” And then I started thinking about Rumpelstiltskin and how he took the Miller’s daughter’s first born as a debt payment. I mean, and that is supposed to be a “Fairy Tale”? I don’t think so. I mean, how scary for a baby. Some short, bearded man to come and take you away from your King dad and (now) Queen mom, who btw, can turn straw into gold. Some life. Thank heavens the Queen mom guessed that lil stinker’s name. And Rumpelstiltskin. Really? Oh, zee Germanz, zay are crazy.

And, now, naturally, I am feeling loads better.

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