Last night, I was fine. For a while, that is, until THIS World War II era looking spiked ocean mine, ruined my night.
That’s a typical stomach flu virus under a microscope. So small, yet such a huge asshole.
Anyway, I settled in, pajamas on, doors locked, security system on and dog and cat by my side, ready to watch usual Wednesday TV line up consisting of a modern family, and Josh Gates galavanting all over the world finding weirdness while both creating and busting long held myths.
Around 9:00, the fist wave of nausea hit. Minor, barely noticeable. Nuanced at first, like a gentle wave. Then in a microsecond, came the tsunami and the first Technicolor revisitarion of the chicken salad I’d had for hours early for dinner. Then, came more and waves of things that weren’t even remotely identifiable as bing edible. Not even being edible at one time.
This World War II spike ocean mine lookin’ mother fella is what a typical stomach virus looks like under a microscope.
I sat down to let the ginger do it’s stuff. It wasn’t . Another urge hit. I ran into the kitchen….it was closer….and in the sink I had no choice but to allow for a an abdominal relapse with a Pompeian force that would have concerned Pliny the Elder.
I as though I had completed that lightning round…..but I hadn’t. Walking back to my bed. I produced the classic definition of “projectile” all over my floor. I looked at the weird formation it created. . It looked like drawing of the primitive space man in the Nazca lines. Part of me wanted to keep it… you know, as a conversation piece….but the sensible Laurie let Pine-Sol remove all traces of what had been there.
One more little fuel injected burp…hhhhmmmmm, almost completely clear. I think the worst is over and I was right for the most part. My nausea wasn’t as nauseating. It was subsiding and noticeably so. I entered the kitchen with Clorox and fixed that sink situation. The bathroom, despite the force which occurred at the beginning of my time as a human font of vileness, was in good shape
The nausea had left for the most part and had been replaced by fatigue. I was tired. After about 20 minutes of convincing my animals I wasn’t some hideous oriface spewing monster created by atomic fall out, we all got back in bed.
I must’ve gone to sleep fast, but was awakened around daylight with an abdominal pain that traveled further south. Now, if I may be perfectly frank here ——if I had to chose between nausea and it’s vocal release ot lower GI anger the can only be expel one way . I’d choose latter. Sorry to be blunt, but I’ll take diahrrea any time over nausea and becoming a oral spigot, but fortunately this morning, I was given no option, but I welcomed the change.
Four….maybe five expulsions later, I was better. My stomach no longer hurt as it did the night before, though there’s still a light queeziness swirling around in there. Not enough to prompt an “exit strategy” of any kind, but I do NOT want to go anywhere near food, I do not want to smell it, see it on TV or read about it.
Still, I think I’m on the mend. The dreaded 24 hour virus is dreaded for a reason. Lord know how it gets into our systems, and think we’d be shocked and sickened further to think how it invaded our innards. My God, but they havoc they cause!.
My contractor arrived. He’s was finishing up some remodeling. He’s from Boston and all that that implies. He took one look at me and asked, “What the fuck happened to you?” in his best unintentional Mark Wahlberg impersonation.
I looked horrible, but didn’t care. I told him I had a nasty 24 hour bug that I wouldn’t wish on anybody. He said, “You look mouh like you had one a‘dem 24 houh monstuhs! Sayin’ ya look like shit would be a compliment!” He laughed. I didn’t. He thought he was cute and funny. I didn’t.
”Oh and don’t forget, I’m gonna need a check today. If you can get it to me now, even bettuh. cuz’ I’m leavin’ in about a half houh, can ya handle dat Meduser?”
Meduser??? Oh……that must be Bostonian for Medusa, the Gorgon who after a fling with Poseidon, was cursed when snakes started growing out oh her head instead of hair.
I wasn’t amused.
I grabbed my purse in my bed room and filled out the check. Then, I stood there a minute.
Medusa? Really??? Seriously??? Biting the hand that feeds????
So………I licked both ends of the backside of the check. I chuckled deviously and went into the next room and handed him the paper Petri dish.
“Get bettuh” he added. “See ya around this time tomorrah”.
I turned and walked away saying, “No you won’t”.
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