Though I now suspect one of my favorite lunch spots as the source, initially I was convinced of my own foolishness as the root of my downfall.
As anyone who knows me well will tell you, this is almost always a safe bet.
But whether it was the poorly washed cilantro, the unbaked cookie dough, or my ill-advised foray into toxic waste disposal earlier that day when I cleaned out the fridge and found what I thought was an unripe peach but which turned out to be a peach covered in a terrifying crust of fuzzy green mold, whatever it was I became sick unto death with food poisoning Saturday night, and so unable to write my usual missive to you, dear reader.
Sunday, alas, was spent recovering from the Exorcist-like horrors of the previous evening (complete with cursing of loved ones and insinuations that their family members may perform oral services in Hades) and so I can only give you this, my apology.
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