Anna came home from her semester abroad on Friday. We were looking forward to seeing her and hearing all about her adventures (yes, we do know how to communicate via the Internet, but it is more fun to hear it in person), and see what fun presents she brought us.
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]