As in the contents of my stomach, that is. We spent a wonderful holiday with my sister and broither-in-law, and their son and his family (wife. mother-in-law and 19 month old daughter, who had been sick the day before). We had also planned a neat post-Christmas event of a gondola ride in Naples to see Christmas lights. Sounds good, huh? Well, the morning after Christmas Chuck awoke feeling pretty bad. Being a tough guy, he decided to proceed with the day. he made it to about 10am before hurling – unfortunately he was in his new car at the time. Yes kids, that new car smell has been replaced by…well, you can guess.
We weren’t sure if it was intestinal flu or not, and we had a bunch of people coming over for the gondola ride, so Chuck spent the day holed up in bed while I cleaned the house and got things ready for the evening’s festivities. Chuck ended up missing everything, poor guy. He started to feel more like himeself the following day, and we all figured that was that. Until that night when I was doubled up with stomach cramps and chills and my brother-in-law spent the night on the john. Heigh-ho. Turns out it was a very contagious intestinal virus, given to all of us by my great niece, who shall forever after be known as “Patient X.” So it goes. All barfing seems to be done, and we are shakily returning to normal (I will never eat gingerbread again, I’ll tell you).
On a completely different topic, I came across this today.