At Least I Wasn’t There
(Post one of millions)
“What a lousy week to get sick.” I thought as my parents picked me up to take me home.
My tumultuous stomach gave out on me early Saturday morning, and I realized I was not going to make it to Homecoming. I knew this was punishment for my nine-hour blogging experiment last Saturday, which had sent me into perpetual crap mode the entire week (anyone who’s been reading knows this). I needed to get home and rest. I figured this might be the best time to do it. Turns out it was, of course in the worst way possible.
But I’m not one to count out that the queasy feelings in my body might have had something to do with bad omens. And these bad omens might have saved my life. Because I’m sure if I was at Memorial, I’d probably be dead or incapacitated right now. My heart would have exploded into smithereens somewhere on the walk back, or I would have started just flailing and hitting random fans and security guards on the way to an asylum.
So those are the two things that I have going for me tonight. Not being dead and not being locked in a mental institution.
- None Found