Afghan Stomach

So I got struck down with some food poisoning the past couple days.  Apparently everyone gets it eventually when they come to work here.  It's euphemistically referred to as "Afghan Stomach" and it's been explained to me that it's my stomach "adjusting".

However,  in my case - and based on some intense physical evidence,  my stomach decided against "adjusting" and instead tried to pack up my intestines and leave me for good.

I don't have to get into the particulars of my food poisoning I suppose,  most people have been there.  There was some curling up wishing for death of course,  some moaning,  and several days of unpleasantness.    I'm now at about 80% I think,  which just means general uneasiness and dislike of being out of range of a bathroom.  But I can cope with that.

The real lasting damage however is nausea.  Especially when I think about the food in the dining hall.   There's nothing wrong with that food at all,  but since I can't pinpoint the source of my afghan stomach everything is suspect.  And when I see the suspects,  I feel a little sick to my stomach.

So today,  I inexplicably got a severe craving for a tuna fish sandwich.  Something safe,  that I can make on my own.   Karima and I went grocery shopping,  got all the necessities and I looked forward to it all day.

Around 7:00pm,  just when I was really getting excited about a sandwich,  Karima decided to take a nap.  I gave her an hour,  and then in a panic of hunger over not eating anything substantial in 3 days,  went and pulled her out of bed to make sandwiches with me.

Now,  the only problem with making food in my room, is that there is no kitchen.   I know a couple guys with kitchens,  but you have to be a real scumbag to come into someone's living space,  make tuna and leave.  That stuff smells.

So that leaves my bathroom sink.

Let me tell you something.  Nothing will chill you to the bone more than when you're salivating,  hunched over,  squeezing,  and you accidentally get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror - nearly 32 years old,  manically excited about  bathroom sink tuna.  

I may have taken a few wrong turns in life.

But on the other hand....

Man,  I loved that sandwich.


P.S. I'd like to give a special shout out to one Brian Mcgurn.   Before I left he not only let me crash in his spare bedroom for two weeks,  he hardly complained at all when I left tuna fish dishes in his sink.  A better friend is hard to come by.