I started back at work a day later than originally planned. Having to call off on my first day back was embarrassing, but necessary, due to the semi-massive bout of food poisoning both J and myself suffered late Sunday night into the wee hours of Monday last.
After some discussion, the culprit was determined to be the (many days expired) soy milk that J used Sunday morning to make chai tea. The tea sat on the counter for most of Sunday and I threw the caution I usually utilize(1) when sampling J's wares to the wind and had several glasses. As did J.
Late Sunday night, after simultaneously cursing and celebrating Canada's win over the United States in Olympic gold-medal round hockey(2) I expressed to J that I was not feeling very well. We compared notes on our symptoms.
And about 15 minutes after that conversation all hell broke loose for the adult members in our household. J and I spent the next several hours trading off time in the bathroom. For the first time in many a day I found myself, cheek to cool tile floor, wishing for a quick death(3).
Around 1:00am, as the two of us lay on our bed, the following dialogue took place:
Me: Would this constitute enough of an emergency to call your mom?
J: Yes.
Me: Why don't we do that then?
J: Now? (Even the question mark was in italics).
Me: Why not?
J: I'll call them in the morning.
At 6:00am I dragged myself out of bed, fed (from a bottle, I'll be damned if my kid accidentally gets food poisoning from me(4)) and dressed a perfectly healthy and happy L for his first full day of day care. I am unable, two weeks later, to explain how I managed to get him to the center and back home again. All I know is that the delusion I maintained at one o'clock in the morning that I would be able to make it into work was completely shattered. I sent an email off to my supervisor and collapsed into a stupor on our bed once again.
J's parents arrived around 3:00pm, food for their dinner in hand(5). They helped J (who was far sicker than I) pick up L and took care of him until 5:00am Tuesday morning. After they left I discovered they had done all the dishes and left food in the refrigerator.
Food poisoning aside, returning to work has been delightful.
(1) J's desire to NOT waste food means that he will drink and eat many days expired items from our fridge. I've even caught him eating moldy bread. I, on the other hand, am usually far more cautious.
(2) Cursing as the United States lost. Celebrating as the game-winning goal was scored by the Penguins' Sidney Crosby and Alexander Ovech-whathisnamewho? did not get within smelling distance of a medal of any variety. This is not because I think Crosby is more talented than Ovechkin. This is because I can't stand seeing an athlete as talented as Ovechkin unnecessarily thug it up on the ice.
(3) The difference between this and the many times I wished for a quick death during my recent time gestating the alien? No tile floor and guilt-free access to tequila.
(4) I'm pretty certain that this was a contributing factor to the beginning of the end of my function as a dairy.
(5) My father-in-law has, for years, maintained that we have no food or beverages in our home. Which translates to no food or beverages J's father would be willing to eat or drink. This habit goes back almost as long as J and I have been married, when we had a spirited discussion with J's father over the fact that we never had soda/pop in our home. This is the same man who turned down homemade chicken noodle soup because he wanted chili then complained that I made the chili wrong. Yes, I am still a little bit bitter about the five hours of my life I will never get back from that incident.
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