Returning to the One True Faith

There are many forms of evil and I think one of the most elemental has to be hospital cafeteria food. Case in point was the chicken nugget bar Monday night with me a little bit hungry from just eating a salad back at the house earlier that evening. It was an honest effort to eat just a little bit healthy as compared to my usual diet but it doesn’t pay to work nights hungry, you can make very simple and dangerous mistakes paying attention to your stomach instead of the job.

As I paid lip service to the usual jokes always mentioned in a communal eating establishment short of a trained and caring staff, I loaded up my Styrofoam container with lumps of fried golden brown goodness. If I remember correctly, food poisoning was mentioned in a laughing matter as the staff gave us the evil eye. What can I say? Little did I know the universe has a sick sense of humor.

I didn’t go crazy; it was just six nuggets, a small side of honey mustard sauce for dipping, and a diet Pepsi. It should have been a safe choice, as compared to others that night, and for the rest of the shift and well into Tuesday things went swimmingly.

It was only after I got up Tuesday afternoon did things start to go askew with the world doing a counter rotation that only I could perceive along with a heighten sense of smell that suggested everyone and everything needed a breath mint. Tuesday evening things got very bad as I sat watching my daughter doing her gymnastic stuff when some kid came by munching on a Happy Meal, the smell was something from the lower pits of Hell.

Long story short, fourteen hours of worshiping the porcelain god in some manner did much to reacquaint me to the faith that I have not followed in any real manner in decades. There is a mark of true divinity in how cool and relaxing any of the dominations of the true faith can be. It doesn’t matter if you are resting your head on a toilet seat loyal to the First Church of American Standard, the Kohler sect, or the uppity reformed Barclay types with the crazy gizmo that washes your butt. The porcelain god is never judgmental, never makes snide remarks, and is always forgiving of the gravest of sins. My biggest problem is that I had no sins worthy of confessing as compared to what I whispered to it in previous years no matter what some might think.

Now all is not bad, even though I still feel as weak as water I was able to skip the Thanksgiving migration to the in-laws and I find myself, for the most part, propped up on the couch watching Burn Notice with an ample supply of ginger-ale. All things considered, it could be worse.