Burn Everything.

     Burn everything.  It's a plague.  It's like the 19th century round these parts and those with a weak constitution get left behind.  This week, Spanish influenza blew into the Hotel Espana, not really but I'm into sounding exotic these days.  But truly yes, the stomach flu hit a few of us hard.  First it was Trent who proclaimed with zeal early on in the trip that he never ever ever takes medications, even aspirin.  Poor chap.  Then it hit me like a ton of bricks Monday evening, after having some questionable stomach issues for the prior two days.  A terrible fever inflamed my body for about 15 hours, thankfully breaking later the next morning and enough violent expulsions to drop ten pounds easily.  Joe said that my sharp jawline could peal an apple.  God I love that man.  Now, we have a few with a weak-ish version of the illness and one student that has it pretty badly.  I've planned to burn everything in a bonfire when the tides turn.  Hopefully townsfolk don't turn up thinking its an old fashioned witch burning party.  We've seen a few places where that stuff went down, so truly, I'll keep the flames down so as not to entice.  

    So there it is.  My adventure for the week was spent making quick trips from my bed to the bano.  The only real Spanish I spoke was when I was yelling at the maid, sans bra and pants by the way, from my bed wailing "Soy enferma!"  and "No molestan!," with her insisting in Spanish something not as important regarding toilet paper.  Man, I really wish I'd have let her change the toilet paper.  

   

 Thoughts for the week.  

1.   I really appreciate internet accessible television series.  I have to buy them as I can't access my Netflix in Europe.  So praise the Goddess for iTunes.

2.  You never feel as far away from home as when you get sick seven thousand miles away from it.  Joe makes the best chicken noodle soup I've ever tasted.  A few days couch bound with little Frank on my lap, some bad TV and my husby attending to me would have made my year.  I'm a lucky woman.  

3.   Life goes on.  I missed two friends giving birth (sort of) while preparing for and coming out here.  My department is fighting for our viability in the dreaded college mergers.   And my husband is showing in a blue chip gallery in NYC.  And snow days.  I hear a lot about those this week.  I still listen to the dog bark and the birds chirp and the students laugh.  It's just that this week I did it from room 119, a room that De Lorca or Salvidor Dali might have stayed in.  

Next week?   Barcelona on our own!  Lots of travel coming up that I am looking forward to.