Guilt, Pt. 1: "Why don't you get out more?"

[muckefuck]

Today was a waste. I didn't want it to be, since I knew it was slated to be unbelievably gorgeous, so I planned on going shopping with monshu in the morning to give reason to rise and shine. I figured having to be up and moving before nine would put a cap on my revelling the night before at my friends' going-away party, but I still managed to close that down. (Only, however, because we're all Old People now and our revels tend to end well before midnight.)

I actually woke up an hour before I needed to and felt restless, so instead of meeting my honey at the bus stop, I walked over to his place--and found him half-clothed, brooding about what to do next. He had a backache, as I could tell from the IcyHot patch, and shopping was looking unappealing. On top of that, he had the same kind of mysterious stomach upset that put a damper on our July 4th trip to the Botanic Gardens.

I hung around, waiting to see if he'd feel better, and he ended up spending the next several hours alternating between dozes and dry heaves. Finally, the sharp pain became a dull ache and he was able to get some real sleep. I joined him in the bed for a short nap that ended up lasting almost two hours.

So here I am, with a terrible case of Good Day Guilt (thanks, Mom!) yet unwilling to go out, even though there's nothing I can do from him beyond what I've already done, namely fetched broth and crackers from the store. No doubt, there are fantastic adventures to be had out by the Lake, but just maybe I'll have another crack at them tomorrow. And at least I've acquired a crass new nickname for monshu that I can't ever tell anyone else under pain of death!