Well, I’ve gone and come down with the dadgum Swine Flu.  Actually, that’s a lie.  I don’t have the Swine Flu—of the list of Swine Flu symptoms, I’m only experiencing one, but it’s a lousy one: snot.

I do not know where all the snot came from.  I just randomly woke up Sunday morning with a snot head, and I’ve been battling it (and losing, mind you) ever since.  I haven’t been this snotty since I was six years old and didn’t understand the concept of blowing my nose {it seemed so worthless back then—“What’s the point?” I used to think.  I hated blowing my nose as a kid}.

Finally, Poor Kyle convinced me to buy a nasal spray (Dristan™) from the nearby grocery store, and then he convinced me to actually use it.  Hello, scariest day I’ve experienced since the time I thought I was getting raped on a university campus.  I do not like shoving stuff up my nose, and I really don’t like spraying stuff up my nose.  It was pretty bad.

The good news is that Dristan™ actually works.  The bad news is that the “12-hr nasal spray” only works for about two hours; according to the Directions, I’m not supposed to re-squirt more than once every 10-12 hours.  Which, of course, is a rule I completely disregard {can’t be walking down the beach with snot running down my face, now can I?}.  Instead, I shoot up the Dristan™ every time I feel a slight sniffle coming on, which may or may not be every hour on the hour like clockwork {but you didn’t hear that from me}.  Dristan™ has become like crack to me—today, during a brief lapse of mental clarity (a side effect of my newfound drug problem, no doubt), I accidentally left my Dristan™ in the car on a venture out for pizza, and within an hour, I felt the shakes coming on.  So now I’m walking around high on the dadgum nasal spray.  What a way to spend a tropical vacation, eh?

Anyway, it doesn’t matter because I’m ignoring my snotty nose and I’m ignoring the Dristan™ rules/regulations, and I might even be ignoring YOU (just kidding, I would never ignore my readers—not in a million years).

Inasmuch as I’m only here in/on Grand Cayman for one more full day, I’ve decided to juice my last few hours for all they’re worth.

Starting now, the only things I’ll be paying attention to are the sun on my face…

…the greasy sunscreen on my feet…

…and the sand on Poor Kyle’s bottom {which seems to be sending me a message—can you see it?}:

Please tell me I’m not the only one who sees the impression of a heart in sand on Poor Kyle’s poor bottom…

But then, that’s how things are here on Grand Cayman.  Sure, it hasn’t been a 100% smooth-sailing holiday—bad things happen here just like anywhere else.  But through the balmy lens of island perspective, our lost wallet and my snot clots just…don’t seem so bad.  Here on Grand Cayman, there will always be sandy beach bums sending messages of peace and love for all the world to see.

I’m really going to miss this place—this cheerful, wonderful, Cayman Island place. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to thank Shalynna and David enough for their unbelievable hospitality.

This picture can’t begin to signify how much we have enjoyed ourselves.

Thanks, you guys.

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