If you recall, my last post ended with me covered in projectile vomit.
Sadly, it was only the start of things to come.
We all got sick.
For some reason, the one who was hit the hardest wasn't any of the small ones, or even Shan with the man-variation of it. It was me. I was so ill all I could do was lie in a Blanket Fort Of Misery in a haze of Zofran and Hydralyte, mumbling things at the daytime cooking shows before collapsing back into bed.
Shan, who has never taken time off work due to me being sick, ever- including when I had hyperemesis, took the day off. I was so ill.
Several {thousand} loads of laundry later, frantic scrubbing of bathroom floors over and over again, and the unanimous agreement that I will never again cook the soup we were eating hours before it hit, I think it's safe to say we're over it. I hope so.
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