It was a conscious decision to not walk this morning. A decision made way before my alarm went off at 5 a.m. I felt guilty as soon as I made it, but I had good reason.
 

Yesterday, I worked from home and was really plowing through my to-do list. I was having a great day. I took No. 1 to the orthodontist after putting lasagna in the oven and giving The Mr. instructions for what to do if I wasn’t back before the timer went off. When I got home, I think everything caught up with me. Or something like that.
 

I laid down on the couch and watched the kids play-wrestle with The Mr. I started feeling myself drift off and feeling my stomach turning. My face felt flush and hot. I asked The Mr. to get the lasagna out when the timer went off. I laid there, almost incapacitated. I drifted way off only to be jerked awake by one of the kids playing.
 

I marched upstairs to bed thinking I’d just rest. I had too much to do to actually sleep, but I needed some time to myself. I’m not sure what time it was, but I think it was before 6:30 p.m. I was freezing, though I was wearing thin PJ pants and a sweatshirt (and my glasses and jewelry and hair clips and bra!).
 

I have vague memories of the kids asking me questions or snuggling next to me.
 

At 9:30 p.m. The Mr. came in and said something to me, but I don’t remember what. Probably something about needing to eat dinner. Or at least eat something.
 

At 10:30 (or was it 12:30?) The Mr. woke me and told me to test my sugar. It took him some tough love to get me awake enough to test. I used the last strip in my bedside meter case and got 253 mg/dL. Good grief what did I eat, I wondered. As I started taking inventory of the last time I ate and what it was I promptly fell asleep.
 

Around 3 a.m. The Mr. woke me again and told me to test my sugar. I was resisting because I clearly remember a back and forth conversation something like this: you need to test your blood sugar; I will; you need to test now; OK; c’mon honey, test your sugar; OK; test; I will; test; OK; test; I will; I’m going to keep pestering you until you test; I don’t have any more strips; you’re just saying that; they’re in the bathroom; then get up and get them; OK.
 

I fumbled through the dark and found a box of strips. Tested at 173 mg/dL. Still wondering what the heck I ate that was keeping me in this range even though I hadn’t had dinner.
 

5 a.m. came around and I woke a little. I hit snooze my normal two times and still considered walking, but decided that since I hadn’t eaten dinner and even if I had a granola bar that I didn’t want to risk going low while walking. And even though I had gone to bed roughly 11 hours earlier, I didn’t have the energy to get up.
 

Finally around 6:30 a.m. – a full 12 hours later – I forced myself out of bed. Tested at 123 mg/dL and got ready for work. Despite a slow start and a slight churning of the stomach, I felt pretty close to normal.