If I could tell you anything (and not sound bossy) I would tell you not to get sick with food poisoning on a weekend where it feels like it could be summer (this time is so short here) .
Certainly don't get sick on Sunday morning hereby ruining the rest of the weekend. Do make sure if you travel by taxi to the airport to meet your sister (in transit on her way back home from the US) that there is an escape (in this case a service area).
Do not get so sick that you can't sleep, your feverish body tossing and turning all night, too hot one moment, too cold the next.
Do not take a hot bath to ease the cramps telling your house mate to look after you. She might fall asleep and not realise you struggle to get out.
When you finally stumble into the kitchen you realise that your zeal for banning packaged food has left you with nothing that can be easily heated.
Go back to bed you aren't hungry anyway.
When you eventually manage to get back up and look outside, you realise the bugs have left the garden and the clematis is in full flower.
Do be glad about the Riverford delivery that left you with some vegetables and frozen meat. (and about the other housemate suffering from the same sickness: at least you know you're not alone) Equally, be glad about get-well-texts from lovely people, Stelline that have been waiting in your cupbord and crazy former housemates who still make you laugh.
And finally make litres of soup with the remaining meat and vegetables, crawl back to bed, listen to an audiobook, knit (if strengh allows it). Otherwise enjoy the flowers that your housemate got at work (where she got an amazing review with a big bunch of flowers)