"Fweww." Anya sez, bracing against the kitchen sink. The food poisoning or gastro-intestinal flu mix-up change-up hybrid has left the building after setting up camp the the last 3 hours of a road trip to Dallas on Christmas Eve, a tour through Christmas Day, stopping over at the Presbyterian hospital around 4:00 pm for stabilization visit which included morphine, 2 liters of fluid and some other drug and x-rays. This lasted until far beyond bedtime.
It wore out it's welcome long before the 10 hour drive home to Kansas City the following day and decided to hang around for the grand finale on the 27th--all day. Our water bill will reflect it's curtain call next month. Yes, an exhausting guest. After waking up, I took inventory of myself, a roll-call of my extremities first, then from head-to-toe internally. I have an amazingly resilient immune system, ask anyone, ask my mother. This stuff must have sharpened it's teeth before ringing my doorbell.
Now, I am well.
I woke up from a dream this morning, in which I was explaining to a rural resident, with typical Anya brand zeal and methodical detail, how together with an out-of-town attorney, we could win a Brockovichian style lawsuit against his local law enforcement, city and county for the gross negligence and abuse he and his family have endured at their hands. Something about giant, water-filled sink holes in the roadways and easements.
Yeah, me either.
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