There are certain times in my life, like last week, when I’m particularly glad I wasn’t born several centuries ago. For starters, it would have been an even longer ride to Myrtle Beach–if you think traffic is bad going around Charlotte now, just think what rush hour must have been like with a toddler in the back of the horse-drawn wagon.
Second, if your toddler, unbeknownst to you, is secretly transporting an incredibly contagious gastrointestinal virus inside himself while you travel to your coastal destination for rest and relaxation, you would likely not have the advantage of having multiple bathrooms in days gone by. Instead, the whole family would be sharing a beach front outhouse as you all spend vacation vacating your stomach contents, violently and repeatedly.
Nor would you have a convenient CVS Minute Clinic nearby to diagnose family members in rapid succession. Had we had the foresight to combine all our prescriptions together, we likely could have qualified for a bulk discount on Tamiflu.
Puking your guts may not sound like much fun for a family vacation, but I’m trying to look on the bright side: we could have been puking our guts two-hundred years ago when there was no such thing as indoor plumbing. Possibly, the only advantage to going on vacation two hundred years ago is that there were no such things as phones back then, meaning your neighbor couldn’t call you in the midst of your rest, relaxation, and retching to inform you that one of your cows is wandering around the pasture with a five-gallon bucket stuck on his head. This literally happened.
So not only am I sick, I’m now worried sick that one of my cows is going to die from suffocation. My farming reputation is already pretty low, but losing a cow to a stuck five-gallon bucket would make me the laughing stock of every gas station grill in the county. Thankfully, my neighbor called back about an hour later to inform me that the cow had managed to self extricate his cranium from the bucket, at which point I breathed a sigh of relief before continuing my regularly scheduled regurgitation.
So the moral of this story is a) animals always do stupid stuff when you go on vacation and b) get your flu shot. This year, flu b is no joke.