Some time later you wake up to the annoying scream of the alarm clock.  It sails off the bed stand as you smash down on it with your fist.   Up late again busting out a budget report.  You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling.  The room seems particularly lonely this morning.  Maybe its the clouds outside, blocking out the morning sun.  Emotion creeps up into the back of your throat.  You suddenly feel like you might cry.  You swallow hard, pushing the lump down your esophagus.  You can't even hear the birds outside cursing at one another.  There isn't even a breeze.  You suddenly start to feel like the room is disgustingly stuffy.  Humid today, you think to yourself as you fan your face with your hand.  You throw your legs off the bed and stand up, taking a moment to gain your balance.  You shuffle into the kitchen and pull the Kuerig towards you (you rewarded yourself when you got promoted) .  You grab a french vanilla pod off the shelf but before you can slip it into it's seat, you fumble it in your fingers and it drops to the floor.  With a sigh, you bend to pick it up.  You stand up quickly and suddenly you lose your balance.  Your hand slams down on the counter top, sending the little vanilla pod tumbling to the floor again.  The room is spinning.  Your surroundings start to close in on you until all you can see is a long dark tunnel ahead of you with a light that seems to be getting further and further away.  Your ears are ringing loudly, blocking out all other sounds.  Dazed and frightened by this sudden onset, you grab for the counter's edge, attempting to steady yourself as the lightheadedness floods your body.  Suddenly a queasy stomach wrenching nausea sweeps over you.  You stumble clumsily to the bathroom, sure that you are going to throw up.  You collapse onto your knees in front of the toilet and vomit violently into the porcelain bowl.  You wretch until nothing but acid spews from your gullet.  Beads of sweat trickle down your forehead as you clutch the toilet.  You hover above the jon for what seems like an eternity, trying to force something up from your rotten gut.  You finally slide from your headrest and lay on the hard cold tiled floor.  For as long as you can remember there has always been something healing about the cold tile bathroom floor.