Wednesday

Monday night, during the hour it took to research and then write this update by midnight, I got sick. I am not sure what the best cliché to use is: a ton of bricks, a Mack truck? Basically, it seemed very much like exploding, sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly, over a twenty-four hour period, which is probably all of the detail you’ll want to know. All I know, really, is that I have never suffered so much with such miniscule preamble. I went from typing merrily along to not being able to sit up (in a chair) in such a small interval. Was it the grey salmon in the refrigerator? It tasted just fine. Was it the Red Spot pizza we ate because Big Slice was closed? It tasted fine, too. Was it the plunge I took under a mossy rock in a high mountain river in Xilitla, after which I walked around wet for the next six hours? The whole thing had the character of a food poisoning, but there are so many options. For the concerned: I feel much better now; and I can not tell, forty hours later, whether I feel under the weather because I am still dazed from laying down for forty hours straight. In any event most outward manifestations of illness have slacked off, and I am left to pick up my exploded self. I stopped barfing at six am yesterday morning, and I tried eating again about thirteen hours ago, to no great ill effect. I am eating a little now. I am even sitting here, merrily typing this in a sitting position, in a chair. Keeping my fingers crossed here: maybe by tomorrow at this time I will be all better and eating up the strange things in the fridge again. [Cavin]