It was a strange weekend for me.
It started Saturday morning, having some orange juice for breakfast. There was something odd about the OJ, but I didn’t think anything of it. Sure enough, a few minutes later, I’m rushing to the bathroom to puke away for only the third time in the last decade and a half. I smelled the OJ, and despite the expiration date not having been reached, it had a very skunky smell to it. I quickly discarded it.
Sunday evening is usually the extravaganza of a golf cart parade where I live. They usually go up and down the streets of the complex where I live in Pinellas Park. You don’t go to the parade: the parade comes to you. So I was standing out of the street at 6:15, not knowing when the parade would get to us. At nearly 8, I had to give up the ghost. I heard the parade process through the neighborhood, but they never came by our street, and the parade route is a more guarded secret around here than Homeland Security.
Would have been nice if the powers that be would tell us that things changed, but I guess communicating with the commoners is beneath them. Oh, well.