Thursday, December 1, 2011
Even the Coffee Tastes Bad
Was it something I ate or something I contracted along the way home?
I can't blame the grands. I was only able to wave to them as we zipped past their exit on I77.
I know I ate too much for lunch. I blame The Kid for that one. He insisted we skip fast food and opt instead for a local diner. This one on a back road in the middle of Florida offered up a smorgasbord of all you can eat southern fried goodness. I ate all I could eat....and more. But that was hours before the storm.
Was it an errant bug clinging to a door handle in a gas station or rest stop? Lying in wait for an opportunity to hitch its wagon to my digestive tract? Whatever it was, it was brutal.
Awakened at 1:30 a.m., the rumbling in my abdomen heralded a long night ahead. I staggered out of bed and began the vigil of ridding myself of whatever was ailing me.
This morning. This morning, even the coffee tastes bad.