It's official. I fecking despise the gorram anthrax vaccine. It's not enough that it feels like an injection of some kind of awfully strong salt solution, no... The day after, I'm running a 100-degree fever, I feel like I've gone six rounds with Joe Frazier, and my left shoulder really doesn't quite want to work right. Plus, there's a bruised knot on my left triceps that hurts like the merry old devil. All of this to shield against a bioweapon that there's only the very slimmest chance to ever contact. A chance that dwindles to epsilon squared when you consider that my ship has what amounts to a shipwide gas mask.
On top of that, the seas are just bad enough to make me very glad that I remembered to take meclizine this morning. The last thing I need is nausea in addition to general lousiness. I'd much rather be curled up by a fire in a secluded cabin somewhere in Saskatchewan, with a few kitties and no particular place to go...