The last two days, the roles were reversed, as Ricky bolted to my side every time I bent over the toilet and loudly heaved. Dogs are good that way. And so were so many friends, who checked in on me as I was in absolute agony for 24 hours. I appreciated that so much.
It’s been 20 ½ years since I last vomited, but my M.O. hasn’t changed. As I lay nauseous, my body rejecting whatever was inside me (Sharkeez bacon), I needed the TV on quietly. Shoutout also to the overnight “South Park” marathon.
New streak begins today. See you in 2038.