Luxury

I've been sick the last few days. My best guess is that the bug came from eating some already peeled fruit from a street vendor. The turbulence continued as a result of eating a bowl of rice and bean when I was starting to feel better. Bad idea. Awful, terrible idea. My stomach freaked out and swelled to twice, maybe three times, its usual size. No exaggeration.

Thus, I have spent much of the last 72 hours in bed, trying to find a position in which it didn't feel like a baby alien was going to pop out of my belly. I stayed away from the morning food preparations and kids couldn't use the computer lab in the afternoon. I have been pretty much useless…and everything has been fine. I was removed from the daily equation and all has gone smoothly. The kids got fed and the comedor proceeded without missing a step.

That is a high form of luxury. I wasn't feeling well so I rested. I had an option. I could take care of myself. Señora Maria has been fighting a chest cold for over a month. It's gotten better but her cough has only diminished from a heave-inducing fit to a manageable annoyance. She's never taken a day off. She's never even slowed down. She can't. Remove her from the equation and the comedor encounters major problems.

Luxury lies the ability to choose. It's the difference between,

"I'm sick. I'm going to stay home today."

and,

"I'm sick. I still have to go to work because if I don't, my family won't eat and they'll give my job to someone else."