We left for the field trip with D sick and S not feeling too hot either, and when we arrived back this afternoon, R immediately succumbed to whatever new development she'd been fighting off, and I'm apparently not too far behind her. Thank God she didn't have a 100 degree fever and all the glorious aches and chills that go with it while we slept on wooden floors at the fort.
So where I would have been posting lively, entertaining stories about night watch and firing the cannon, instead I can only post this brief "we're back and all is (kinda) well," entry, and then lie down and wait for the fever and queasiness to pass. We've postponed the flight to Grandma's rather than have her and Aunt J experience Typhoid-Mary-On-Spring-Break.
You know, I like to think that if terrorists attacked us using biological weapons, or if the next version of the Spanish Flu hit, somehow my family and I would be just fine. We're strong. We'd fight it off, or not get it at all. We'd be spared. We would be among the statistics of the survivors. But when we're sick like this (and have been sick off and on for a while, now), I realize that my "it won't happen to me" logic is what keeps data recovery companies in business. Really, you never can tell. Gotta watch out for that hubris. Consider me humbled. Nauseous, and humbled.
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