Sunday night Chad offered to make dinner. He made salads with salmon fillets on top. I have to admit that I wasn't digging the salad, because it didn't taste good -- kind of bitter. I figured that I put the wrong dressing on the salad, or that I am too accustomed to restaurant cooking, and that's why it tasted weird to me. I ate the salad anyway because my nice husband went to the trouble to make a healthy dinner for the two of us.Monday morning rolled around and I awoke feeling weird. I had a slight headache and felt hungry but also a little nauseous. I had a Luna Bar and a Diet Coke (breakfast of champions!) thinking that the combination would provide vitamins and caffeine without too much tummy trouble. By lunchtime, I felt weak and a bit shaky. I reached for a ready-made falafel wrap, and the sight of the lettuce on my intended lunch sent me running for the bathroom. I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say that Chad and I were both ill. Both repulsed by the mere thought of lettuce or salad. Chad thinks that the food-poisoning culprit was lettuce that went a little long in crisper. I don't know for sure, but I won't be having any salads or salmon again for a while.
Chad continues to apologize profusely. I'm fairly confident that he wasn't trying to kill me since he got sick also. If he was up to no good, maybe he's learned his lesson that bad deeds typically backfire. Or maybe it was all an elaborate ruse to get me to cook more, fearing for our health and welfare.
