Today, Jemma, Dahlia and I got food poisoning.
I don't know about other people, but to me, throwing-up is unpleasant beyond description. The girls would agree with me on this.
Being fat or just not eating much, can't possibly be as bad as bulimia.
Just to add to the fun, we had to drive back to the Boston area today from Long Island. There comes a point when you have an intestinal bug, where you realize that you have got to get what is poisoning you out. That initial time is hard, because you always have doubts about if it is really needed. I hit that point at a rest stop on the Merritt Parkway. It was pretty much perfect: Nobody else was in the restroom and the dividers were tile that went all the way to the floor.
Before I could find my courage, someone came into the restroom and I knew that I had to get out of there: I am very noisy and this is just something I can not help. I headed back to the car and took Meehah from my wife--who wanted to go inside the rest area. There was a nice woodsy area behind the parking area, so I walked back there hoping for inspiration and at the very least it would give the dog some exercise. Out of sight of the parking area I came across a low stone wall--it doesn't get better than that in terms of privacy and convenience. In all the commotion I still wondered what was going through the dog's mind as I was doubled-over the wall.
If she is anything like Brian, from Family Guy--she was probably wondering if she could have some. No!
I am on the mend, as is Jemma--but Dahlia is still suffering. I am left with a new-found appreciation for just how crazy people are who do this on purpose. That is whack.
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