Because one writing challenge isn’t enough. I’m gonna try to run two as long as I can stand it. Seeing as I’m starting this one over a week late, we’ll see if I get burned out before I ever get caught up.

For these prompts, I’m choosing to take a more realistic approach. Of course, being only one word, they are much easier to manipulate than the almost full scenarios the other challenge presents me with. I promise to do the best I can to entertain you.

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It was one of those days I didn’t want to get out of bed. I just knew if my feet touched the floor, I was either gonna throw up, cry, or fall down.

But things had to be done, so I slowly peeled the covers back, relishing the feel of cool air on my clammy skin, and began to ease out. I kept a hand on the bed for reassurance and I crept, gingerly now, along the side towards the bathroom. When I got to the corner of the big tester bed that had been in my family since they came over on the Mayflower (not REALLY, but just about), I gripped the post and breathed deeply through my nose.

“You are not sick, you are not sick,” I chanted. I squinched my toes against the dark plank scuffed hardwood. “You are not sick, you are not sick,” I repeated.

And just then, my dog, having sensed my presence being alert and upright (again, not REALLY), jounced into the room and jammed his cold nose in my hand. The unexpected movement made my stomach lurch and I gave an involuntary gag.

NOT ON THE RUG!!!! My mind screamed. I didn’t want to have to worry about cleaning it. Just one more thing to do on a day that all I was prepared for was drinking Bloody Marys and watching Lifetime movies.

I made it to my bathroom, but just barely. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to party hardy. I didn’t even drink THAT much. I’m sure it was the combination of dancing around the fire and jostling all that ranch dressing and sausage balls around that got me in this shape. Nobody else seemed that worse for the wear, I noticed, as they staggered in for coffee. We gathered around the island, adding heaping teaspoons of sugar and sloshes of cream. I didn’t want anything but salt and ice water. And fast.

I didn’t want to think about sunlight, exercise, food, or excessive noise. And I certainly didn’t want to think about any more alcohol. Somebody had turned on the TV in the den and The Hangover was playing, which just made me that much sicker. But it also made me reflect that things could always be worse. I wasn’t sunburned on a roof in an unfamiliar city. There was no Japanese man trying to kill me. I didn’t get any crazy tattoos and I still had all my teeth. There was no tiger in the bathroom.
I collapsed on the floor. I wanted as few things touching me as possible. My head felt so swollen that I could feel my individual hair follicles. Traci stepped over me with a bowl of rice krispies. I could smell their sweetness. I groaned and turned on my side.

I must have slept because when I woke up I had a trashcan for company, and a bowl of ice cubes with a washcloth laying on top. The girls had left a note on the counter to say they were going to get salads at the cafe and would be out back by the pool.

I dared a glimpse outside. There they all were, frolicking without a care in the world. I just wanted to draw the curtains and crawl back in bed. But then the vicious cycle would repeat itself. Maybe a good plunge in the pool was what I needed, anyway.

So I found a towel, donned my sunglasses, and stepped onto the deck.

“She lives!” they toasted. I plucked a cucumber from Tina’s salad.

“Barely,” I croaked, and lowered myself onto the concrete, dangling my calves & feet in the sparkling water.

“Margarita?” Bethany asked, grinning devilishly over a glass filled with the frozen pink concoction.

I never was one to say no. I lifted it and took a drink.

And here we went again.