Well, what was intended to be a nine day vacation in Florida turned into ten when I contracted some godawful stomach ailment that had Uncle P puking in full-blown "Exorcist" mode for 5 hours on the night before I was to come home, leaving me in no shape to travel the next day. After changing my flight (a task made as painless - though hardly inexpensive - as possible by the good folks at Southwest), I spent most the rest of Wednesday sleeping in my sister's recliner, catching bits and pieces of various movies as I occasionally awoke to make another run for the bathroom. I couldn't imagine there was anything left inside me, but there was.
Honestly, i don't remember being that sick since I was a child. My Brother-in-Law had the same thing last Friday, but we attributed to a vertigo attack. When my symptoms mirrored his, exactly, we knew it was something else. By this morning, I was better, though still tired and still not very hungry. The flight home was fine and I'm hoping the worst is behind me.
And now that I've totally over-shared and grossed you out, tomorrow I'll have happier tales of my trip to the land of oranges and alligators, including the story of the silliest Zombie Cake ever made (pictures to follow over at The Zombie Zone); an ill-fated trip to Universal Studios City Walk and outlet-shopping bargains galore!
Well, I am off to sleep in my own bed for the first time in days... Good night!
More, anon,
Prospero
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