There's A Party Somewhere, But It's Not In My Digestive System
Everyone's been there, that horrid patch of hours that your body revolts against some bit of food that you unwittingly ingested. I'm totally sure that the world's comestibles have a yearly convention and decide just how to allocate bad bacterial misery to various unsuspecting humanoids. I'm looking at you bad pepperoni, lunch meat, improperly washed or raised fruit and veggies, and raw cookie dough!
Yesterday I was rambling about, having arrived home early in the day from my most excellent vacation, I set about putting away camping gear and working my way through Mt. Sockuvius. The aroma that particular laundrocano was emitting was enough to make a train take a dirt road. Anyway, I was happily conquering that bit of odoriferous offense when I, along with my son, made the foolish ingestion.
We don't eat a lot of processed food, but I was really quite tired yesterday and picked up some junk from the local deli. I also grabbed a box pizza as for some inexplicable reason it looked appetizing. My son and I each ate a piece or two and continued about our day.
Fast forward to three-thirty AM. I shot up in bed and marveled at the pain wracking my husk. It was like a gaggle of Lilliputians were playing a game of cornhole using the end of a mace instead of bean bags. I made it to the altar of the digestive system god, my son however did not, and we did synchronized spewing at exactly the same time. Pretty impressive really.
As I have been on vacation for the last week, I really needed to get up and go to work this morning. Dizzily and with no small amount of effort I hauled my beleaguered carcass out of my bed and wandered in full Walking Dead mode into the kitchen. Somehow, in my delirious state I had promised the boy that I would make him some muffins. Make them I did, all while trying to not hurl as the smell of smashed banana and milk chocolate chips wafted into my nostrils. If you want to torture someone, grab a person suffering the effects of food poisoning and have them go all Gordon Ramsay for a while, they will turn into a blubbering mess of: "For the love of all that is holy, get those carbs away from me!"
I almost lost my non-existent croissants as I measured the buttermilk and placed it into the mixing bowl and as the muffins were baking I shakily wove my way to the bathroom to get read for work. The prospect of facing the public at the library for the next seven hours jellified my already abused digestive system, and I vaguely remember my husband telling me I really needed to return to bed.
In the back of my mind I had this nagging thought, my manager wasn't going to be there to open, and I figured that my food poisoned self could at least open the library and turn it over to one of my cohorts. I'm happy to say that I didn't spew on anything at our branch, but the post office ladies did lift an eyebrow at my hairstyle for the day. Think windblown lion with a touch of static.
As I fired up the library's computers, the mace chucking Lilliputians of digestive distress began demanding tribute again and I think I might have broke into a Celtic Lament of some sort. I'm not really sure, but I am thinking that melodic moaning in pain is much better than puking on the library's freshly cleaned carpet.
My lovely co-worker was ten minutes early, and with the library successfully opened I stumbled to my car and drove down the hill to my bed. My son and I have watched a respectable amount of Netflix today as we rusticated without ease on our respective perches of non-existent comfort.
After twenty-four hours without any ingested food I was able to keep down a very appetizing grape popsicle, so now I look cyanotic with purple lips to match my lion's mane of hair. This day will be forever documented on the Steemit blockchain as a tribute out of sympathy to all of my fellow beings that have suffered the malaise of bad bacterial overload, and in the spirit of community I offer a $2 SBD reward to whomever relates the most spectacular, humiliating, and/or hilarious tale of food poisoning in the comments. The idea of sharing something positive brings me a bit of healing joy!
Come on my dear followers, lay your tales of digestive woe upon us!
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