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The 7 Deadly Sandwiches
What’s that on your plate?
The last two weeks have been rough.
I do my best writing on Medium at midnight. No distractions, except for a wild bird that sits outside my window and makes a peculiar hoot-hoot-whirr.
That noise doesn’t bother me. If the bird ever moves away, I will miss its weird serenade.
Anyway…one night, not long ago, I turned on my laptop to write a story, and the strangest thing happened.
Zero…energy…
So, I shut down my electronics for the night.
The next day…
No improvement.
Also, I started wheezing.
And even thinking about breakfast made me want to hurl.
In a matter of hours, though, I was starving. I needed Sophia Tell- Stories 🤓📢🤓’s robot to fetch me a sandwich.
No robot showed up, so I dragged myself into the kitchen and made a tuna sandwich.
Extra bad decision.
Sandwich #2, a grilled cheese, didn’t stay down, either.
By the following day, I knew this wasn’t a 24-hour bug.
I had food poisoning.
I emptied the fridge of anything that made me green just to think about it.
After a few days, I ran out of stuff to put on a sandwich.
All I had left was bread.
Toast and tea. Toast and chicken broth.
And I was still not better.
