It’s another Saturday over at the kids’ place while Wendi does her DJ thing. But let me tell you about my morning. I did something I don’t often do: I went shopping for clothes.

Normally I end up buying one or two or three of one particular article of clothing. Say, I’ll pick up a couple of shirts one month, and a few months later a pack of socks. Oh, no, not today. Today’s tally looks like this:

• Two pair of jeans (not both in black, shockingly enough) (and this time I tried them on first)
• Three of one style of T-shirt (in varying colors, thankyouverymuch)
• One really comfy (and thus pricier) additional T-shirt
• One polo-style shirt (again: really comfy)
• One T-shirt with text on the front (I couldn’t resist a shirt that reads: “This product has been approved by people who wear clothes.”)
• A pack containing six pair of black athletic-style socks (because the dress socks just do not last long enough to be worth it)

Excessive? Perhaps. I’m certainly not what anyone would consider to be a clotheshorse, but I do like wearing clean clothes that aren’t in an obvious state of self-destruction. Call me weird if you must. But at least you can’t call me dingy.

At 6am, I was (apparently) asleep on my stomach… until some sort of mental alarm went off on account of there being water and bile working its way up into my mouth.

Waking up in a desperate effort not to puke all over your bedding is not the way I normally prefer to start my day, thank you.

So, I burned a sick day and stayed home. I ended up sleeping ‘til almost noon, and have been dining on little more than toast and mild sandwiches all day. I’m feeling… okay-ish now, if you don’t count a slightly touchy stomach and (of course) the horridly uncomfortable heat in my room. Ah well. It’s summer, I’ll get over it.