Dear Diary:
Food poisoning – from my freaking retirement dinner! Grazie a Dio that stupid bitch of a cook is not joining my new staff. I have informed her several times that her marinated pork butt runs through MY butt faster than the bulls in Pamplona, but nnnoooOOOOooo, she thinks it’s all in my mind and slips it onto the all-you-can-eat buffet. Which I would have normally avoided, but we’d all dipped a bit too far into those peach margaritas that Sister Juanita had specially prepared, and I never caught it.  Next thing you know, I was praying to the papal porcelain most of the night. Could barely even hold down my Eucharistic wafer the next morning. Porca Puttana!

Six more days. Almost packed. This week could not possibly go faster…