Sick as a dog. Enfermo como un pero. Huvorio yak sobaka.
That's me at the moment. It hit Saturday night, a "stomach flu" as Peace Corps medical pronounced it over the phone, with the command to rest and ride it out. So sick was I that I didn't go climbing on Sunday, that sick, voiding from both ends.
Carrie, rather than hurt me for ruining her first chance at climbing in years instead made me chicken soup and sat through Red Dwarf with me (which she and all the Zhytomyr crew save Amy hate). So, shout out to her.
I thought I wasn't teaching until 12:30 today (yeah, I know, rough schedule) so I didn't even bother to lesson plan yesterday, figuring I'd certainly feel better in the morning. I was sitting in a stupor, trying to force down a banana when a phone call came at 9:45 asking if I could come in at 10:15 to teach because they had to change the schedule.
Some very expensive photocopies on the way and walking in the door at 10:30, I started teaching the assigned lesson of "young learners" only to find that none of the teachers taught younger than seventh grade. Trying to adapt on the fly, we talked about the psychology of twelve year olds. During the break, I point out the young learners problem with my coordinator, who tells me that although they teach adolescents now, they're all about to be assigned to elementary level teaching, hence the class. That, they hadn't told me. So I go back in and teach what I meant to teach in the first place, don't have enough time and sort of compress it all in.
It is not my day, and I think I'm going to go throw up again.
Figured someone else should share in the misery with me.