In which I engage in some moderatly-disgusting navel gazing.
I know there is at least one loyal reader out there who genuinely cares what goes on with me and mine. So here’s what’s up, feel free to pray for us.
The weekend started early when DW had me stay home from work. She had, as we say, bad guts. She felt better-enough by the evening that I took her out for a valentine’s day iced cream.
Fast forward to 02:00 and I wasn’t quite sure which end to point at the porcelain god, so I laid on the floor shivering and sweating. Another 12 hours and (like her, the day before) I felt better enough to be up and about. Which was good because about that time #3 was yakking up the lasagna he’d just eaten, and DW was feeling terrible after eating the same, so I had her go deposit her lasagna the wrong direction into the commode as well, to prevent another day of bad guts. And #1 said her stomach felt weird as she lay on her bed watching a movie on DW’s computer (she had a bite of lasagna as well), and #2 was solid racked out on his bed for a few hours. Only #4 reports feeling fine, and he smells like something crawled up in him and died!
So. I hope we’re well enough that the Zoo can get to school and I can get to work on Monday. Tormorrow I think we will be pretty whipped . . . tonight isn’t looking like visions of sugar plums, not exactly.