So, for the last 3 days we’ve been a plague house.
First, the baby spent an entire night waking up every half an hour to puke. And it’s particularly pitiful when someone not-quite-two gets sick to his stomach. He kept assuring us “I’m a good boy!” and “no want nummies” during bouts of vomiting. And everyone out there who has raised a baby is just nodding their heads because the 😦 factor of a little sick kid is universal to the raising a little kid experience.
A day went by. The rest of us thought we were safe. Then the 15 year old got sick and spent most of the day in the same state. At night, my wife took her turn, which alarmed her doctors to no end since she’s got about 6 weeks to go until New Baby arrives.
This morning, just when I thought my Rasputinlike constitution had spared me, boom. Technicolor yawn alarm clock. Just how I like to wake up. I’ve just spent most of my afternoon consuming about three cups of rice gruel (1 cup rice, 6 cups water, let the rice cooker work on it until it’s the consistency of loose oatmeal) with egg in little tiny batches. At this rate, I might be able to eat serious food by tomorrow morning.
Why am I telling you this? It doesn’t have much to do with writing, or creativity, or my books, or someone interviewing me, or…
…you get the point.
I’m telling you because the name of the place is “Seriously Eclectic” and I feel like telling someone. I still feel like crap, I’m not driving anywhere and nobody else in the family is interested in going anywhere, and everyone locked in this blighted house already knows the horrors—horrors, I say—of the Puke Plague.
(Editor’s note: WordPress wants me to link ‘Technicolor yawn’ to graphic videos of people vomiting. I’ll spare you. Bad, WordPress. Bad.)