A weekend so bad, it made me hurl

OK, so I don't need to go through another weekend like that one for a while.
Like, maybe, NEVER.
It had so much promise. I dropped Jayden off at Grandma-ma and Granddadas and met my brother and his family for dinner at my favorite sub place (and saw my super-cute niece) and was looking forward to a longtime friend's home poker game.
I went up to the counter and confidently ordered a cheesy crab. Now, I've been in love with the Cheesy Crab since I was a freshman in college, or about 75 years ago (drum kick). I used to order it at least once a week, but it was an occasional affair, as I could only get them when I visited Lawrence, Kan.
And then...paradise. The shops chained out and even made Denver. They aren't in Greeley. Yet. So I'm still limited. But not QUITE as limited as I once was.
So I ordered my love. And the counter guy smacked my hand.
"I don't have any crab," he said. "I discontinued that. I'd only sell like one of those a week."
But...but...but...I wanted my cheesy crab!
I wound up ordering a chicken sandwhich with red sauce and quickly discovered that a sub place is only as good as a treasured item (translation, it wasn't nearly as good as the crab).
So then I thought the poker would make up for it. And it did. For a while.
Until I started to feel funny.
Wifey, Kate, had a bit o' the stomach flu earlier in the week, and I really, really thought I wouldn't get it. Ha. I started to feel worse an hour into my arrival, and then, I had to visit the restroom.
And puked and puked and puked.
Nice.
I knew I wasn't going skiing the next day. I really thought I could continue to play poker, and I did, doubling my buy-in, but after a few more minutes, I prepared myself for the miserable drive home.
I drew on every ounce of my past experiences driving home exhausted and sometimes sick after a day in the mountains, and after a stop at McDonald's and waiting 20 minutes for a Powerade after being so thirsty I would have drank from a men's room urinal, I made it home at 2 a.m. I growled at my wife and hit the sack, praying that I could hold down the drink.
I did not get up until 5 p.m. the next day.
I haven't slept through the day like that in several years. I did manage to keep down the drink, and wifey Kate fixed me some grape Jello, which I ate and then ate some chicken noodle soup. Then I played some online poker just to be up for a while.
And I troll around for an hour and make some great folds, including a fold to two pair when I was tempted to push, and I'm rewarded for my effort by getting dealt AA. I'm the last one in, so I raise, and I get one caller, and the board flops J-high.
He bets the pot, $5, and I'm convinced he has K,J or maybe J,Q. So I re-raise, he pushes, and I gladly call.
And I'm right. When the third A hits, I figured I have it.
Until the fourth club comes down, and he wins with J,K os runner, runner, runner, runner FLOOSH, which floooshes down $62 and a good portion of my Ultimate Bet profit that I had worked hard to build for the last month.
Occasionally it's very hard not to get cynical about poker, even as it's going away and I'll miss it when it does. I work hard for three weeks and see all that work get crapped away when my 9-1 favorite doesn't hold up.
What a great way to end the night.
And the weekend.

P.S. The lone highlight was reading "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy. God what a great book. You must read this now.