Hmn. The plot unthickens, as it were. It seems there may have been an explanation...or...two for my intense barfy misery earlier this week. I think it's interesting to note that the count of people includes only those who can afford the health care that is necessary to get tested. Given that I ate some peppers on Monday on the way home at the delightful (normally non-contaminated) pañería in Jefferson, as did my buddy Matt, who was catching a ride up to Portland, and that we both got miserably sick, and given that Bill ate peppers at the pub last night when he went to get Forrest at the train station, and he is now in bed with selfsame misery? Seems likely. The symptoms seem about right, add in painful joints and excruciatingly ouchy kidneys (checking in with Bill, yup, him too,) and I think we have a "winner".
I want to post more later, but I think I need to wait until the nephew is put in bed. He came to work with me today and hung out in the basement shipping and receiving room with me listening to Ruby 3: The Underworld/The Invisible World. (He loves all of the ZBS productions I've let him listen to; he's already heard Ruby 1 and 2.) He was really good while at work, but seems to be getting it out of his system now that we're home. He's already gotten a stern talking to for an unauthorized phone call. So, I shall go be the grownup now.