Viral joy

I spent last week in digestive misery. Food became the ultimate enemy. I tiptoed around chicken soup, I winced at a bite of toast. After trying to eat, I'd sit on my couch, awaiting my fate. Turns out, fate can be cruel. Repeatedly.

It's hard to find joy when your head's in a toilet. But here's my best shot:

joie de vivre: the stomach virus edition

joy is piling blankets so high you can barely move.

joy is bendy straws to prevent unnecessary head movement.

joy is questionable daytime programming.

joy is receiving pity phone calls.

joy is doctor-ordered popsicles.

joy is unlimited, guilt-free naps.

How's that for a silver lining?