I stripped bare and carefully tucked myself into my bed, blue and white cozy covering me from chest to feet. Felt the coldness of my pads from my feet as they pressed together. Still, I was reeling from that unexpected trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Bad Chinese chicken, I thought. Had to fix some tea, but for me, choosing what kind of tea I was going to have was the toughest part. After all, with at least 13 different flavors to choose from, it was like going to a Baskin-Robbins ice cream shop and asking for a triple scoop of Rocky Road, peanut butter and fudge caramel cone. Not me, no not tonight. Therefore, I decided to take and brew some Red Zinger tea, because I knew that it always put me in a false state of drunkardness. Why? I never knew. My eyes felt droopy even from the mere smell of it. How pleasant it tasted, even with eight tablespoons of sugar. I remember this one time, in a Chinese restaurant, when a friend of mine had uttered this silly remark. “More tea with your sugar?”
I had felt irritable shortly before I felt sick to my stomach, always the sure giveaway before you clutch your stomach and prepare for a hideous vomit launch. Although my stomach was restless and wounded, at that particular moment, everything felt calm, very calm. I had not vomited a drop of anything and this alone proved to be a good all-clear sign that my sickness had passed.
