The Fainting Couch
I have taken to my bed.
That sounds so grandly Victorian, as if I have a lace coverlet and a chambermaid to fluff my pillows as I recover from some genteel lady-disease.
If only. The truth is far more grubby and wrinkled, with half-empty water glasses crowding every surface and the crumbs of dry cereal (one of the few things I have felt like eating) sprinkled over the dog-fur befouled duvet cover. Until, that is, said dog decides to climb up and lick every surface, trying to Hoover up the cereal crumbs, because obviously the $3/pound dog food I’m buying her at Sal’s Doggie Gourmet Palace isn’t making the grade.
So Downton Abbey it isn’t.
The worst part is that this whole business is completely and utterly my own fault. As a germophobe, I wish I could lay the blame at the feet of someone I came into contact with, but no, I’m pretty sure I brought this plague upon my own house.
After listening to the RadioLab show about how important intestinal flora are to our mood and health. The show contains a fascinating piece about how mice who ate yogurt – which is rife with probiotics, or good bacteria, have more emotional resilience than other mice (listen to the show. It explains the whole thing).
Well, hey, I thought, I want to be a mouse that keeps swimming! I want to be emotionally resilient! I was encouraged by my friend Annette, who even emailed me an article about probiotics, an article that mentioned that you should be very careful to start taking probiotics slowly, bit by bit.
Which, of course, I promptly forgot. I dove into the massive case of probiotics at our local health food store and finally, after much reading of bottles and listening with one ear to the worker there talk to another woman, selected one completely at random.
I came home and popped the pill. No big deal.
Two hours later, I felt like the contents of Mount Vesuvius had been emptied into my belly. Or maybe a couple pair of fighting otters. In any case, it wasn’t good.
It turns out that my own intestinal flora, who had been happily occupying my guts for 50+ years, were now under attack by foreign flora, and they weren’t happy. There was literally a fight to the death going on IN MY STOMACH.
Without being too graphic, here’s how the night went: vomiting. Fever. Chills. Muscle aches. Rinse. Repeat. Again. Again. Again.
So don’t try this at home, kids, lest you end up spending two days in bed drinking ginger ale and coconut water, eating dry cereal, and feeling like your intestinal flora have given you a good, hard beating with a baseball bat.
PS What’s up with netflix? So much content, and so little good to stream.