Imagine 19 people in a 5 bedroom home for a long weekend. Imagine these people are related. Now imagine these people one-by-one succumb to the plague. Sounds like a great story right? Not so much if you live it.
This was my Easter holiday weekend.
My thoughts while voiding my guts ranged from “Huh, I ate carrot” to “I’m never going to eat gluten or diary again, why me?” to “Wow, there’s a lot in there.”
The plague hit at a rate of two per day (with a days delay for travelling – hitting two more once they reached their destination). Thankfully each case only lasted 24 hours and it skipped the pregnant lady (that’s right, soon there’ll be 20 of us).
Another unexpected present of this trip – black socks that now have orange bottoms thanks to the liberal amount of bleach used throughout the weekend (in the hopes of stemming the plague).
We survived and next time we holiday together (oh don’t worry, it’s already planned) we’ve opted for seperate motel rooms to make quarantine easier.