Read at your own risk, I'm ill and planning to describe it

I'm writing this from my deathbed. I would say you guys can have all my worldly possessions, but you already picked through them. I think Peter even did a second sweep of the garage, like a greedy vulture pecking at the carcass of our kitchenware. But anyway, back to the dying. I either have a mean stomach bug or something I ate disagreed with me to a violent extent. I woke up in the middle of the night with these horrible, shooting stomach pains. They won't go away, no matter how many times I have to rush to the bathroom. I couldn't sleep, so now I'm exhausted as well as in pain, and I have no idea what the Asian equivalent of Pepto Bismol is. Uhhhhh. I feel like I'm in Oregon Trail...Emma has died of dysentery! Someone in my wagon always died from that; probably because all they had to eat was 200 pounds of buffalo. Anyway, it's been a rough night.

We had a good Friday, though, before the disaster struck me. I met Mike for lunch and we had roast duck and crispy pork, which was really good, but thinking about it now is making me feel nauseous. One of our agents called and finally had some apartments for us to look at. So I met Mike back at work and we waited for the guy to show up. It started raining, and he called saying he would be late, so we walked over to the food court to grab something to drink. I got an ice tea tarik, which I can already tell is going to be one of those things I get obsessed with but will never be able to find once we move back home. It's so delicious, it's insane. It tastes like a combination of black iced tea and chocolate milk, which I know sounds weird, but trust me, it works. When you get drinks here, they put them in these little plastic slings so you can carry then around. It's kind of like plastic bag handles, but without all the bag nonsense. I'm not really sure why they do this, since it seems a lot easier to just hold one's cup, but it's kind of cool. It's like a drink purse!

Our agent finally made it and we got to see some places. There are basically two types of apartments you can get in Singapore: a 300 square foot box of a room, or a two bedroom two bath. There seriously isn't anything in between. So we saw four places, which are all actually pretty similar...I think the complexes were designed by the same company, because the floors and cabinets are exactly the same. We liked the first one the best, and it comes with the beds and a couch. Plus, when people start coming to visit, we'll have a place for you to sleep! The floors are all wood and tile, and the kitchen is small but manageable. It's also really close to Mike's work, so he can probably walk there. People here tend to keep their apartments pretty warm, since the AC costs a lot. We're going to need to stock up on fans for sure.

It was kind of weird, because there are people still living in the apartments we looked at. I felt kind of bad, barging into people's homes and wandering around, but I guess that's pretty standard here. The first place we looked at is actually being rented right now by two guys who work for ILM, so that was pretty cool. But the other places were a little awkward, especially the last one. The landlord's agent met us there, and he was trying to show us everything with no regard for the tenant's personal belongings. See this window covered with pictures of this guy's sons? Hey, it slides open! What's that ripping sound? Oh well! Also a couple people had live in maids who I guess tend to hide from people in the kitchen. But then you go to look in the kitchen, and it's like AH! Where did you come from? Why are you being creepy?

We're supposed to go look at a few more places today, if I can drag myself out of bed. I'm sipping some Sprite and I will attempt to eat some toast in a bit. I would like to point out how unfair this is, since I don't do anything during the week and had plenty of time to be ill then. But no, I have to get sick during the weekend when I want to spend time with Mike. And I don't think making me toast and watching me curl into a ball and groan counts as quality time. Sigh.