Well, sorry to leave you all hanging there this week. I planned on a very tantalizing blog series leading up to a grand introduction of some of my new knits. But instead of writing away on my laptop teasing you with pictures, I found myself this week making friends with the downstairs bathroom. I’ll share the story with you.
***You should not eat any food while reading this blog posting. It may gross you out. You have been warned.***
So, I started my morning with a light salad topped with my mother-in-law’s homemade salad dressing. (Yes, I know that the recipe she uses is the one on the back of every Hidden Valley italian salad dressing mix, but for some reason it just tastes better when she makes it.) After salad I had some water and started in on my second breakfast- a high protein tv dinner. (I prefer to start my mornings with something savory, not sweet.)
Halfway through breakfast my stomach started acting a little funny. So of course I listened to my body and stopped eating. I go to drink some more water and suddenly get the overwhelming feeling of being cold. After I bundled myself in house slippers and longer pajama pants I continued my drink of water. Soon enough, nature called and I found myself in the downstairs bathroom.
No big deal, I’ve been here before. Quite morning. Bathroom all to myself. Life is good. Then I do my official job and . . . it doesn’t stop. It just keeps going. Crap! I have the craps! Nothing to do now but wait it out. I suddenly notice that I’ve got less than a half roll of tissue left on the roll. In a physical feat usually reserved for Cirque du Soleil, I manage to check for extra tissue in the bathroom cabinet without lifting my butt too far from the toilet.
After checking for reinforcements, my stomach starts really turning. I’m breaking out in cold sweats and, fearing the worst, I emptied the bucket in the corner of its magazine contents and held on to it for dear life. In a scene that I’m sure would have been worthy of the movie, “Exorcist”, I’m puking my guts out while having a poop feast at the same time. Yes ladies and gentlemen, stuff was coming out of both ends at the same time!
The homemade-sangeria-gone-wrong in the bucket didn’t even compare to the 8-layer chocolate cake I had just made in the toilet. With my self-induced detox at a halt, I laid there on the cold bathroom floor confessing all my sins to the toilet god and praying for death to ease my pain.
What followd next was a bit of a blur to me. I did manage to get to my cell phone and call for help. Somewhere in there I changed clothes and was driven to the nearest hospital.
I fully came to my senses sometime in the hospital after a large bag of fluids was given to me. I realized I wasn’t the only one with this near death, out-of-body experience. Several people had come in looking like a demon was just summoned out of their bodies. It was apparently a bug going around. A virus that left its victims half-naked on the bathroom floor in the fetal position.
The hospital gave me a prescription for anti-nausea medication and after a few hours, sent me home. I felt like I had been on the loosing end of a bad fight with a drunk midget. I was sore from the belly down. My body was so cleaned out after the ordeal that my farts sounded like they were passing through a wind tunnel. Water and rice from Panda Express was all my stomach cold handle for the rest of the day.
So is there a bright side to any of this? Well, the downstairs toilet and I have bonded. I now know that the magazine bucket is dishwasher safe. I have proven that Hidden Valley italian dressing smells the same coming up as it does going down. And I was able to get a great blog story to share with you.