I have been released from the hounds of fury who hath come upon me and swaddled me in their sickness and filth. After three days of a stomach virus the clouds have broken allowing the rays of healthy sunshine to fall down on me. And if I have to look at another goddamn fucking Saltine cracker I will go insane. I was sick, but now I'm well. The best part of being couch-ridden was that I finished watching The Comeback which is a brilliant piece of television. If you don't know what it is, please educate yourself and love it as I do. And when Lisa Kudrow threw up while dressed as a cupcake, it took me right back to three days ago when I too was throwing up. Except I wasn't dressed as a cupcake. I was dressed as a bowl of banana pudding. Don't ask.
Anyhoo, I am going back to work tonight and I feel at about 85%. It ain't no fun to be at work when you don't feel good which is ironic really since it ain't no fun to be at work when you do feel good. Sad, that. But I will be there tonight. And when someone orders a white chocolate martini, I will pretend that it does not remind me of what I was blowing out of my nose yesterday. And when I serve a bowl of spinach and artichoke dip, I will ignore the smell that makes me queasy just thinking about it now. Seriously, since being sick, my sense of smell is on hyper-drive. I almost had to throw away some white lilies that were brightening up my kitchen because the smell was so nauseatingly sweet. Never fear horticulturists; I simply moved them onto the piano in the drawing room next to the solarium so my olfactory glands could take a chill pill. The most difficult thing about being a waiter when sick is that there is always the fear that a snot drop will be released from your nose at any time.
"Hello, hello, hello! Can I get you anything to drink (sniff) tonight? Pay no mind to the mucus slowly descending onto my upper lip. You see, I had a little touch of the stomach flu or a cold thingy and I'm just getting over it. But I feel better today, I really do." And then as soon as I get to the sidestand, I blow my nose on a bev nap but who really has time to wash your hands after every single time you blow your nose? It's annoying. The nose drip, I mean, not the had-washing. Or lack thereof. Whatever.
Work will be interesting tonight. And sad because I will probably fore go my shift drink which should really say something as to how sick I was. If a vodka martini does not sound appealing then you know my body is all fucked up and shit. But I will be there with a smile plastered on my gaunt face. My pants will be loose because of the weight that as fallen off of me over the last couple of days. How will my apron even stay on? My arms will barely have the strength to hold the tray of cocktails because my body is lacking sustenance. Two days of crackers and Sprite does not a strong body make. But for the sake of my customers (and my empty wallet) I will be there. Ready to serve. I am waiter, hear me whine.
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