Yesterday I was having stomach cramps. I whined about it to Chanthaboune, with whom I chat during the workday, but I decided to ignore it. I did lie down for a few minutes between work and my Wednesday evening marathon, and I told my husband I was going to die soon.

This is a joke. My husband has been telling me for the past 20 years that he is going to die soon.

He said I should wait for him.

I didn’t even mention it during the ladies’ group last night, a feature of which is going around the group and telling our troubles. I couldn’t bring it up in that group because they all have things like kidney transplants and fainting spells and broken limbs and diabetic necrophilia — no, can’t be that. Necro-something, though. Anyway, it’s just not a group in which you can whine about having a tummy ache.

When I got to bells, though, half the ringers were out with stomach flu, so I immediately began to fear that I had that. By the time I sat down for choir, I was so dizzy that I thought I might faint, so I mentioned it to The Chemist. She suggested that it could be menopause or high blood pressure. I don’t have those things “You didn’t have those things,” she said in a blood-curdling tone. “Maybe you’re getting them now.”

If you are at all prone to hypochondria, you should not tell your symptoms to The Chemist.

I thought it might be that I had neglected to breathe during bell practice.

So I sat there singing for an hour, with odd creeping sensations and chills, and then I went home to bed and slept fitfully for twelve hours, awakened by pain and sweating and chills. I have now done the minimum of work and am going to go back to bed as soon as I finish writing here.  I intend to be all better tomorrow, because I am going to visit #2 daughter in The Big City.

Something a little funny happened yesterday. I can’t share this story IRL because there is too much explanation for normal people. Here I can explain, and if you wander off to have a cup of tea, I won’t even know.

On Tuesday, I had been submitting websites to directories. I do this all the time, and it is a respectable part of the Dark Art. I do it, and then mostly forget about it and move on to the next thing. But one of the directories was a blog directory, and Wednesday morning I got to the computer and found that nice bloggers had stopped by and invited me to be friends with them and it seemed to be an interesting place over there. So I actually went back and posted this blog, something which I never do.

I do not conduct any SEO on this site. It is my private blog. So when I submitted it, I didn’t put in any of the keywords we use to lure people into help people find our sites. Just the URL. In case any of those interesting bloggers felt like dropping by.

I got an email almost immediately telling me that this blog had been refused because it was obviously not a blog, but a commercial site, maybe even spam.

I have commercial sites. They are distinguished by the presence of products, a shopping cart, and limited writing. I was having some pain at the time, and that I think is why I shot off a response saying they didn’t have to put me in their directory, but I felt they should know that their reviewer was untrustworthy.

Really, I have to laugh about it. All the commercial stuff I do, and this site gets turned down. None of the others ever has.

I am going back to bed now. I agreed not to die sooner than my husband, so I guess I won’t die today, but I don’t think I can actually stay up.