Why I should always listen to my husband (because he's pretty much always right)

Yesterday, he put out the last Yoplait yogurts we hadn't eaten, because he was going to throw them out (after taking and washing the breast cancer prevention lids, of course, because that's the kind of good person he is). I saw them, saw that it wasn't an "expiration date," but a "sell by" date, and commenced eating one.

Apparently, that was a really bad idea.

Almost exactly 12 hours later, at 3 AM this morning, my stomach began really, really hurting. Obvs, I was asleep prior to this, so I drifted in and out of consciousness while my body did it's thing. This is where the fun happened.

I had just finished reading Into Thin Air for the first time yesterday, so I had these weird, half-waking dreams about my pain and being on Everest. I'm also clearly going to have multiple personalities someday when I completely lose it, because in my dream, if I was laying on my left side, I was somehow a woman named Laura who was being dragged down Everest to safety. If I lay on my right side, I was man (can't remember the name), and if I was laying on my back (the only position that didn't really make my stomach go nuts), I think I was helping other people. So weird!

I'll spare you the details of the rest of the night and morning, but suffice it to say, I didn't really sleep much, and it says a lot about our bed (and my husband's sleeping) that Peter didn't even know I was sick until he woke up and I told him. I'm feeling a lot better now, but still weak. I didn't go to work, and I'm mighty glad I didn't because I can't imagine how uncomfortable I would have felt (and looked) sitting at the front desk with a still-tender stomach and no food in me. In fact, I'm 99% sure I wouldn't have made it up the hill between here and work; someone would have found me collapsed in the last remaining snowdrift :-)