stomach virus

Stomach Virus (not homosexuality) Nearly Destroys Entire Family

I have really learned so much this week from the stomach virus:

  • Not to let children clean the toilet for three weeks in a row by themselves. When you are staring into the abyss of the Porcelain God puking up bile, it’s not the best time to realize there is some seriously disgusting stuff clinging to the walls of your toilet. What is that caught in the threads to the lid and why is it orange? Oh, God. Oh, God. Must. Avert. Eyes. And nasty hair all over the blessedly cold tile you are resting your head on as you are simultaneously shivering from the cold and sweating from the effort. And gum wads stuck to the inside of the trashcan. Gum wads with hairs sticking to them. And what the hell is THAT? Wait. Wait. I think I’m going to be sick again…
  • Some towels really are expendable. Sentiment and thrift are really secondary to considerations of whether you want to sop off the vomit of a recently puked-on towel and transport it without incident to the washer. I needed a new bathmat anyway.
  • It takes weeks to months to develop bed sores, so you are fine to spend two days in an enforced horizontal state. Close your eyes again, pumpkin.
  • If you are the first victim to the stomach bug &/or time yourself right, you get out of a lot of the upchuck clean-up duty from the slackers who get sick after you. Suckers!
  • All that stuff you really needed to get done for a few days really is still going to be there when you get back to it. And it will blow every bit as much as you feared. It’s not paranoia if they really are after you.
  • Watching American Horror Story is not a good choice when ill, especially the episode where the lady gives birth to a demon spawn and dies in a pool of her own blood. The only thing that would have been as stupid would be to watch The Food Channel or maybe an episode of Hoarders where they uncover stores of putrid food.
  • Also, I can’t binge watch American Horror Story episodes because I’m a weenie at heart. I can barely get through one episode at a time as it is. Two in a row might send me into a psychotic break, and we’re just on Season I.
  • You know you are still sick when even the smell of fresh cookies is vile.
  • Proof you live in a modern world: instead of calling out when you want something from your spouse, you call him on his cell when he’s in the next room as a less obnoxious option.
  • Sleeping off and on all day is not as good of a way to make yourself sleep soundly, or at all, at night as you might expect.
  • Puking is an art, and not everyone can do it with aplomb. My son, for instance, just opens his mouth without any warning whatsoever in any locale, at any time, when the moment hits, and vomit bursts out of him like a volcano. It is truly spectacular. The rest of us mundane putzes run predictably to the toilet to puke there. We’re lucky if we manage to get some chunks on our face. No theater. No presentation whatsoever.
  • You know the shoot-out is over when clean sheets have been placed on the beds, the towels are all washed, the bathroom has been properly cleaned, and you think maybe Chinese food might be good for dinner.
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