Last week was my annual vacation. I got home Friday night around midnight. Three hours later I came down with something. Not sure exactly what. From the symptoms, it feels like something in the food poisoning/bronchitis/Captain Trips from The Stand family.
I hate being sick. Oh sure, it’s fun. All the cool kids are getting sick. And it drives the chicks wild. But it’s not for me. That’s not how I roll. (Disclaimer: After almost 53 years, I’m not sure exactly how I do roll, but based on the available data, it does not include being fun, doing what the cool kids do, or driving the chicks wild.)
Having said that, I’m very happy that whatever this is, it waited for me to get back from vacation. Being sick in a hotel room on the Vegas Strip would largely negate the value of being in a hotel room on the Vegas Strip. And I’m pretty sure this isn’t going to kill me. My record to date of surviving unfortunate situations is roughly Always-0. (Disclaimer: I don’t expect to retain my perfect record for the rest of the century, but if I can get out with only one loss, I’ll be satisfied.)
Nevertheless, if this is a non-lethal strain of food poisoning/bronchitis/Captain Trips, I really hope I start seeing visions of Mother Abigail soon. I just came from Vegas, and I’d hate to have to walk all the way back feeling like this.