So here I was, looking forward to doing a new UWA this weekend - the goal is to show up every couple of weeks now - and working along doing my thing, which got me home late Thursday night.
It seems I have a touch of stomach flu or something, and I didn't notice how queasy it was making me until I lost consciousness and landed with a thud on the bathroom floor. After a few minutes, I heard shouting in the distance, and as I became more aware again, I realized it was Red yelling at the 911 operator that launching the ambulance was more important than telling the operator what my birthday is. She's very practical that way. She had heard the crash, pushed her way into the bathroom and found me lying completely unresponsive with my head bent over the side of the tub. The poor thing thought I'd had a stroke, which runs in my family.
I'll spare you the gruesome details, but the bottom line seems to be that I had gotten myself dehydrated, and several hours and a couple of saline bags later, I came home for a long wintry weekend of convalescing. The experience has sapped some of my ambition for podcast-producing, so I hope you'll forgive a slight delay. Tank you berry much.