Last Thursday I flew to San Francisco. Then I promptly came down with the plague. Twenty-four hours after I landed the symptoms began to set in and by Saturday my body was officially down for the count. All of that amazing food and potential for adventure was depressingly swept away in a haze of Nyquil and Law and Order reruns.
On Sunday I briefly recovered enough to walk down to Fisherman’s Wharf. Had I realized that it looked like the boardwalk at Hampton Beach I think I would have saved my energy as shortly after I developed a sore throat that was my complete and total downfall. Thankfully CK was there to take care of me though. I ended up living our vacation vicariously through his iPhone images and the treats he brought back to the hotel room. Here are some shots from my whirlwind germ addled trip:
One cross-country flight and a fruitless trip to the doctor later I’m finally back at work after spending an additional four days (post trip) sequestered in my bedroom at home with my furry companions, Watson and Dexter, by my side. Unfortunately, I can only sort of hear and speak still and my ribs feel broken from days and days of coughing. Plus, I’m frankly rather livid that my vacation was ruined. If I have the chance to go to San Francisco again what should I make a point of eating and visiting? Aside from copious amounts of vitamin-C…
