"Virus wins this round. Couch-bound, clutching water, questioning existence."

My stomach is throwing a mutinous fit, And the couch is the only safe place I can sit. 
Infomercials are playing at quarter to three, As I stare at the screen in pure misery. 
I’ve watched six reruns of The Price is Right, Just desperately trying to survive through the night. 
Oh dawn, please arrive with some mercy and peace, And bring this digestive disaster to cease!