What am I doing?

I want to be writing. Or reading. Or learning French. But I can't, because I spent all night inexplicably throwing up and am now in that maddening phase of recovery when you have just enough energy and well-being to appreciate how skull-perforatingly bored you are. If I get up and move around I start to feel on the point of throwing up again. If I read more than a few pages my eyes hurt and I get too tired and start to feel on the point of throwing up again. Ditto looking at screens. And obviously I can't have intelligent thoughts about anything.

And I was rather pleased with myself for having eaten an uncharacteristically hearty supper, too. (Most of my life I've been too thin, you see. Just about the lowest possible healthy BMI now.)  Ugh, don't want to think about that now. And it wasn't the meal. No one else is sick.

Oh well. The probably-not-throwing-up any more part,  that's fun. I could even just about get Pollyanna-ish about how this particular sort of boredom sort of illustrates another, unexpected advance on the mental health front  (wanting to learn things! I used to be like that all the time and I hadn't even noticed I'd stopped!) but really dammit it took me three hours to eat a single cracker and 10% of a banana and there are limits to the power of looking on the bright side.