Worst Birthday Ever?

I know I haven’t posted for a couple of days, but this time I have a pretty good excuse. This past Monday was Labor Day, and most Americans enjoyed a nice long weekend. For me, it was also my birthday (31st – dammit, I’m not getting any younger), but I definitely did not enjoy my day off. In fact, as far as I can remember, it’s probably the worst birthday ever. You see, I contracted some kind of stomach virus or food poisoning, so I was spewing out of both ends every hour (fairly precisely, I’m told) for most of the night and part of the day. The scourge of this attack on my body was compounded with the soreness I was feeling from playing tennis the day before for the first time in about a year, making my miserable existence that much more painful. I’ve been recuperating for the past couple of days, subsisting on toast, noodles, and lots of liquids. I hope to be back to my usual diet of fried foods and pizza soon, although my wife is delaying that inevitability for as long as possible. 😉

Back to the main crux of my post, though. I want my birthday back, dammit! Everyone else got to spend a lovely September day (one of the first sunny days we’ve had in a while around here), and I spent it in bed hurling every hour. That just sucks…

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