Saturday: Mission Aborted.

The fever lingered until 7 am but the left foot still feels like it has been invaded by screaming, goose stepping, nazis.  Remembering that a blister needs time to heal before subjecting my feet to more relentless pounding I made the distasteful decision to postpone.  From the hotel, I had to walk about 2 miles to a CCT bus stop.  After a 15 minute wait a bus arrived.  I queried the driver and found out that that bus' end of the line was a Marta train.  So far, so good.  This was a little after noontime.  The ride itself was harrowing, Six Flags ought to base a ride on one.  But we arrived at the Marta train depot in one piece.  From there I rode the train to College Park and then another harrowing bus ride to Palmetto.  By now the fever felt like it had returned.  I walked the mile to get my truck and I don't really remember much of the ride home.  As a matter of fact, I awoke in my bed and wonder if the last couple of days have only been a bad dream until the goose stepping nazis in my left foot started their screaming again.  Oh, yes; it was real.

So, I sat at the house for a bit feeling sickly and puny wondering what could be wrong when like a flash of lighting, a thunderbolt out of the sky, IT struck me: I was hungry.

My previous meal had been breakfast at the Waffle House in Hogansville: Friday morning.

I had actually forgotten to eat!

BRILLIANT SMOLMES!!!

And there is literally nothing in the house (remember, I had expected to be gone a week).

So, I loaded my not so big as it was behind up into the truck and headed into town.  For some reason Chick-Fil-A was sounding mighty appetizing (let's not get into the Lenten discussion right now).  So, while I was driving east on Bullsboro, toward the Dwarf House the engine on the truck started sputtering and then lost power.  I was out of gas.  I had parked the truck low on fuel in Palmetto with the intention of filling up upon my return; something my "sick" mind seemed to be unable to grasp the concept of earlier.  So, I pulled the truck into one of the dummy exit that align Bullsboro, parked, and got out to start walking.  I was within a quarter of a mile from the Dwarf House and my first priority was to allowed my stomach the knowledge that it hadn't been forgotten or abandoned.  As I neared the Corner where the Dwarf House is located I realized that it was already after 10 pm.  THEY"RE CLOSED!

But the Burger King across the street wasn't.  So, the screaming nazis and myself changed course and hobbled into Burger King.  I ordered a combo meal Whopper with no mayo or ketchup.  The counter person entered it in as one with no mayo and pickles.  I had to correct the order.  Now, burger was to get no mayo, pickles or tomatoes.  Again a gentle correction of the misconception.  Now the burger was with no mayo and ketchups.  All was right with the world until I remember to tell them to add muster.

To make a long story short this is just one of the incidents that testifies as to why Fast Food Workers should not get $15 an hour.  Lets just say that I would have been better off just asking for muster packets when my order came.

And it came, and I took the tray, sat down and took a moment to allow a lingering glaze.  Then to my horror everything disappeared.  I quickly looked around to find the perpetrator of such a ghastly jest when I heard the belched that was issued from own oral orifice.  Perhaps I could have been a little on the peckish side.  But after a few moments of respite I started to feel better.  I left the Burger King and remember where a Service Station was that was nearer than then one I initially thought of at the Interstate.  So, with the nazis in toes (pun intended) I headed in that general direction and arrived there in no  time which was longer that the nazis cared for.  

I bought a 2 gal can, with gas and headed back to the truck.  Within the hour of this little "ordeal" starting I had the F-150 roaring back into life.  A quick stop at another station, one in the direction of home, some more gas to have a comfort zone in the tank and a stop at the pseudo-office so that I can bang this out (This blue-tooth keyboard is getting desensitize and harder strikes on the keypad is now needed).

And now to post and then to tow the toes with the nazis back home.