This past weekend, I "put my shoulder to the wheel" as the mormons would say, and sent several hours at two barns, and then ran errands and cleaned and pushed myself right up until late dinner which Dan was nice enough to make for me. About 6 hours later, I had the worst stomach flu I've ever had. I writhed in pain until around 8pm Sunday night, and finally fell asleep to the sounds of Antiques Roadshow. I got up every hour, and then at around 7, I woke up and started getting ready for work. I had to stop and start a few times, unsure if I was really going to make myself do this. We have a mountain-load of work with a hard deadline in my department, and not coming in seemed like a bad idea. But I was not finding that deeper level to make me keep going. Until Dan let in the puppy (who, yes, has officially been named Reverend Trask, or The Rev, as I like to call him). I know we project a lot of stuff on pets, but dude, I'm not exaggerating when I say th...