If my kind readers remember, I last wrote about the peanut butter food poisoning crisis, and how I was adversely reacting to it (to the lack of peanut buttery snacks, not the poison itself). Oh, if only I could eat my words. And even if I could, I'm sure I couldn't keep them down. You see, since Friday night, I have not been able to ingest solids.
Thanks to WebMD, I was informed that my three symptoms (fatigue, vomiting, and you can guess the third) could stem from any of 20 conditions, but food poisoning was at the top of the list. While I usually consider myself to have an iron stomach, and a stalwart immune system (if I find myself sneezing or coughing, it's usually enough for me to sternly chastise myself saying "NO you will not get sick!") this illness took me by rather fierce surprise. I was practically immobilized all Friday night and Saturday, and this was sad indeed as I couldn't do my usual weekend food stuff - be it an exciting brunch, this year's Chili Festival (dammit how could I have missed it?!), or a great pre-, during, and post-Oscars spread.
Let's just say that this incident, and the peanut butter fiasco, are making me slightly more leery of food in general. I may now start to check the expiration date on my milk, and make sure to have my steak fully cooked. Even though in France I ate steak tartare once a week and was fine. Ah the French. They know how to live.
Now if you know what's good for you, go watch the Oscars with amazing snacks! They are to me what the Super Bowl is to most American males.