What with one thing (worked late to make up for the morning's Dr. appointments, Mom's printer had blown a gasket and she needed to be talked through resetting it over the phone) and another (barfing roommate, cat hork on the couch), I didn't get to bed until very late and woke up well after six, to the sound of Tamara emptying the dishwasher, and even then I did not wake up far.
RX: [eyes shut against the dazzling brilliance of a 15-Watt incandescent lamp] "Wha're you doing?"
Tam: [all but whistling with chipperness] "Emptying the dishwasher."
RX: "Stop that! You had noro!"
Tam: "I feel fine."
RX: "You're still a carrier!"
Tam: [vanishes into Roseholme C3I]
I struggled awake and managed to grump my way through making breakfast, spilling coffee beans inside the cabinet, infuriating Rannie the cat (we bought the wrong brand of olive oil last time plus I keep walking right where the cat wants to be), burning toast, etc.. FWIW, you're still shedding viruses for 2 to 3 days after getting over Norwalk virus and its kin, which is one reason it burns through a population like a grassfire through dry pastureland on a windy day.
There are few things I loathe more than throwing up. Worse yet, I promised to take a co-worker to the hospital for some major-scary work this week -- I don't dare be ill.
Tam gets the last line: "While you're telling people how poorly I grasp the germ theory of disease, remind them we live in the same small house and 36 hours ago, we were sitting on the couch, watching Archer and grabbing at the same pizza." (See, you're shedding virus for awhile before you have any symptoms, too.)
He Worked On A Starship
2 months ago