n'est pas

I have four blankets on my bed. When I last left the house at 5pm, each one was crumpled into it's own little separate pile on the floor.
I don't want to go back just yet. Everything reeks of afterhours, of early morning. Called out of work because I was really very violently ill, and because I needed sleep. And sleep. And sleep. And kleenex. Yeah, ill, jumpy/hands crawling brand of ill. Details are fuzzy, can't explain why or anything these days.