The wind is blowing frenetically outside for more than a day now, but I haven't felt it. I have been inside, recovering from a fantastical bout of food poisoning. Thankfully, I'm feeling much better, though I think my stomach muscles are tense due to the violent uploading of my innards.
It all started Monday afternoon. I went to a certain, unnamed restaurant, that also happens to be my employer. A co-worker and I met up and shared some nachos. I had sour cream. She didn't. And I think that little wonder of a condiment did me in, hardcore.
I felt a little strange driving to meet up with some friends four hours later, but not bad enough to worry. A few hours after that, I felt a little queasy. Not having lost my lunch in 13 years or so, I didn't expect that night would be the night. Welp, it totally was the night. It was the night in the bathroom. Then in the trash can. The bushes, twice. The other bathroom.
It was awful.
Crazy projectile waterfalls of disgusting. I thought I handled myself well, and by that I mean I didn't choke. Eventually it all came out, and I was left in a weakened state. 50/50 Gatorade and water was about all I could take in for a while, then I added some fruit. Today, 36 hours later, my stomach seems back to normal, except it's a bit sore from the severe spasms.
I admit, I was impressed that my body could tell something was in my stomach that shouldn't be, and that it could mobilize to get it out. That's impressive.
The worst part?
The nachos used to be my fave.
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