3:00 in the morning and I awake with a sharpened, twisted pain in the center of my gut. It felt like someone mistook my bellybutton for a pencil sharpener and jabbed me in the gut with a dull pencil. I can't think of a better way to start the day. I should have known as much; Cathi had been down with the stomach flu for almost two days. My immunity had worn thin - thin like the stretched membrane of a newborn calf, or salt water taffy pulled to it's limit. Apparently, my immunity was not immune enough to withstand a puking wife in the same bed. Pretend immunity - you are a cruel and unyielding rascal.
I've heard it said that when you do something manly, "it puts hair on your chest". (I've also heard it said that eating risotto puts hair on your chest. I have never had a bite of risotto and yet I have six inch strands of hair waggling from my torso) It's a five hour drive from Island Park, Idaho to the friendly confines of Murray, Utah. Driving this distance while battling belly-ache-agony was sure to double my chest hair, leaving it a thick, natural forest of wool; a coif to behold.
I am, in fact, too weak to finish the rest of this post. I just didn't want to leave my readers in a lurch. I will try and give an update of my condition on the morrow. Not sure if it is the swine flu... Cathi was better in two days. The boys have not shown any symptoms yet. Until tomorrow, pray for me.