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.