Instead, she arrived home and slept for 6 straight hours. Seems that she spent the flight from Amman to Paris puking her guts out. She texted me from Paris, and I spent the rest of her trip praying that she had food poisoning and not some hitherto unknown-to-these-shores stomach virus, which would then rampage through our family and ripple outward, felling half the country.
Patient Zero* just doesn't look good on a resume, you know?
|NOT a fun place to be sick|
So yeah, she's home (and, no, I didn't hug her when she walked in the door, so sue me) and seems to have gradually recovered, but I woke up at 5:30 this morning with stabbing pains in my stomach and haven't been able to eat all day. So the Patient Zero scenario is still a possibility.
And I'll have you know that, despite my desperate condition, I persisted in cleaning the bathroom today. Scrubbed the tub and everything. Why? Because I'm a mom. I hope that in my next life (we DO get another one, right?), I remember to have a job that gives sick days.
Last I checked, Susie's lunch consisted solely of tater tots. I ordered pizza for dinner (Larry picked it up). I bitched at everyone to put their plates in the dishwasher. I napped. Anna drove Brian to work. We all managed. Still, I've lost valuable knitting time and the rest of the house is a mess.
Not the bathroom, though - the bathroom GLEAMS.
*Word to the wise - DO NOT Google images for "Patient Zero." I'm gonna have nightmares.
[Airplane image: Panda Clipart]