29 May 2008

That makes ME sick

I think I'm gonna cry...

I woke up last night (this morning) at around 4 to the sounds of vomit - you can't mistake that wonderful sound, can you? Coming out of my stupor (hush, y'all), I register sloppy, splashing sounds of something hitting the flat water of the toilet...

Stepping into the hall, I realized one of my daughters had just spray painted the antique linoleum of the hallway with gut gravy... and I was standing smack dab in it.

Long story short - Jack had gotten sick last night and she couldn't keep it in on the long trek from bed to bath. She left a slimy trail behind her.

I spent the next hour giving her a bath and removing the trail of sludge - which literally started from her bedroom door and ended as an explosion around the toilet.

I have a weak stomach.

Where is that 'every other' parent when you need 'em?

So, we get back to 'normal.'  I put her on the couch next(er) to the bathroom with a trash can at her side; give her a cold, wet washcloth for her tum-tum and a glass of water... then I head off to bed and into fitful dreams of her eating year-old chicken noodle soup which she had hidden under her bed for later - hence the sickness.

I got up this morning and pushed the button on my brandy-like-new coffee pot... and went in to take a shower. My design was to come out, clean as a whistle (wit-woo) and enjoy a nice cuppa with a towel piled on my head.

No such luck.

My brandy-like-new coffee pot isn't registering it has any water. It be broke... like my heart.


1 comment:

James A. Bowders said...

So it would seem that when it rain it pours. I too have faced the frustration of the failure of a brandy like new item going belly up. Leaving me with an unyielding feeling of remorse for my dearly departed item as I stand over it hopelessly pushing the on/off button on the odds that it would magically start to work again; this is quite a thing to watch especially if it had been a electronic item who’s passing was marked with a small cloud of smoke and the stench of burning wire insulation. This activity is accompanied with a vacant look punctuated with hollow eyes and the tiniest tear forming in the corner of my eye. All this passes in a moment of silence that is shattered by the sound of expressionitives that not only rise in volume like a siren warning of an impending tornado but has the ability to send small children into a coma and young adults into uncontrollable giggles. I have been known to take a moment and apply percussive maintenance techniques to the item (that means you beat on it until it works or you are positive it will never work again). In many cases and similar to a cyclone I may take the now dysfunctional item and hurl it across the room sending it either into the adjoining room due to it’s size and mass as it cleanly punches it’s way through several layers of drywall or its sudden and violently dismantling by the effects of terminal velocity sudden reacceleration syndrome. This is why I have sought the help of professionals, to lay the ground work for the simplest of American Traditions, the Insanity Plea.

But what do I know?

pass the popcorn, please!