The Vomitorium Strikes Back
February 21, 2006
OH HELL NO. HELLLLLLLLLLLL NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Except yes! Jason and I are sick as very sick dogs again. With the puking all night and whining all day.
When I posted about the Food Poisoning Adventure, a couple smart people suggested that it was maybe not food poisoning at all, but a stomach virus Noah brought home from daycare. I read their suggestions and nodded and filed that away as a likely cause, but for narrative simplicity I stuck with the food poisoning story online, because I am lazy and it was just deliciously poetic that the foodies got food poisoning and are still to this day absolutely terrified of pupusas.
Now I'm thinking that virus thing was a good call, because Jason and I made our own damn non-pupusa dinner last night with just-purchased ingredients and once again, one of us got sick and then the other followed suit about an hour later.
This time it was Jason who got sick first, around 1 a.m., and I lay in bed in terror because I'd been fighting some nausea for about an hour by then, and when I heard the hideous sounds of retching coming from downstairs I knew I was getting a glimpse into my very near future.
I am very tired of paying lots of money just to widen my circle of germ exposure to include a bunch of mucusy, spit-uppy brats.
Also, I am tired of not having any sick leave and having to drag my diseased ass into work.
Also tired of the dark circles under my eyes because I'm running on less than two hours of sleep and now know first-hand that NBC reruns the previous evening's Olympic coverage in the middle of the night, LIKE I HAVE NOT WATCHED ENOUGH CURLING ALREADY.
(Shuffleboard + bowling + billiards + housecleaning = WTF)
(I love it! I want to join a league! I maybe got out the Swiffer and went around my house Swiffering in a suspiciously curling-like fashion! ! I also maybe pumped my fists in the air after perfectly placing some dust bunnies on the imaginary curling rink I decided was in my kitchen!)
Anyway, I am probably going to go die now.
(My dreams of Olympic gold! Dashed!)
However, if these are not the legs and feet of an Olympian something-or-other, I will eat my Swiffer.