The Road to Hell is Paved with Food

I am living in my own little hell today. Dear hubband had a stomach virus starting Monday, ending last night. Guess who has it today? Despite my best efforts to keep a distance between us, I am ill. Ugh. And do I listen to the very good common sense advice, "put nothing in your gullet and nothing will escape your exhaust pipe?" Of course not. What? "Why not?" you ask. Duh. I like food. I like to feel full. I like having energy. But right now lunch; lunch being two Italian shake-n-bake encrusted chicken tenderloins, one half cup Uncle Ben's Long Grain & Wild ready rice, one third cup of peas, two small pieces of garlic bread (made from a French loaf), and a small cup of green tea; is roiling around in my guts and I am completely regretting every last bite, especially the tea which tends to upset my stomach if I drink too much. Lesson learned? Probably not. Tonight's planned dinner is Smoky Black Bean, Cheddar and Spinach Burritos. I may not cook it (dear hubband can be persuaded, I am sure), but I will have to have at least one. I believe I could be mortally wounded with my innards lying about and I would not pass up the chance for a bite of Mexican food. There would be no sweeter last meal.