Brown and Yellow on both sides now.

Although it perhaps isn't exactly Cal Ripken Jr.'s record of 16 pro baseball seasons without missing a game... I had managed to work for over 12 straight years (full time) at Backstreet without taking a sick day. Not that I've been the picture of health or the video of vigour... it's just that aches, pains, coughs and wheezes have been so far within tolerable levels. Any instances of more debilitating malaise have cooperatively come over weekends or on official holidays. Thanks weirdly chrono-savvy constitution.

This past week my streak went down in flames.

After the long weekend (and concurrent house explosion... see below) I settled back into my two job routine... troubled only by a little throat tickle and cough I couldn't seem to kick. Tuesday night after getting home, feeling fine, I had a bit of a flippy floppy feeling in my gut and I hurried down to the washroom and unleashed a torrent of loose bowel debris... and that signalled a three day cycle of eat/drink/ditch that devolved into surrealism quite quickly.

As a drinker and a sickly child I've had my fair share of stomach gymnastics... but I can't say anything quite like this has darkened my bathroom door before. For example, no nausea? After a day and a half my head was swimmy with dehydration and no coffee, but none of the usually cramping or hiccuping you get. And everything went through my digestive system... chicken broth, crackers, green tea, even water... nothing got turned to pee pee for the whole three days.

Then on Friday afternoon... food started doing what it's supposed to do again. I could pass gas with confidence... not needing to fear a wet surprise.

Whether this is my one sick chance to take the middle of the week off... or the sign of more sick days to come... who can say. It did give me the opportunity to watch the continuing parade of people driving by to peek at the empty lot which was once a house. Do these people enjoy empty lots? Do they have to have been full previously, or will any empty lot do. My urge to put up a "Welcome to Scully St.... Please enjoy our HOLE!!" sign grows daily.

In adding insult to injury news... the company who cleared away the remains of the house is called Disaster Kleenup... that I've just now discovered is a national one and not just a bunch of local retards with a few trucks like I first would've guessed. I guess just because your community has been decimated by floodwaters and half of your family is missing and presumed dead... that's no reason not to look on the bright side and call in the KLEENUP KREW.

fuck you.