Oh, and things were going so well. We had a pleasant Christmas, had plans for an extended family party in Springfield, had additional plans for the New Year.
And then a wee little bug looked at us, laughed maniacally, and declared for all to hear, “Oh hells to the no!”
My dear sweet husband, who never ever ever gets sick (but can throw his back out pouring a cup of coffee), has the stomach flu. We were all in the car yesterday for the nine hour trip back home; may the universe have mercy on my house.
So instead of catching up on paid work today, I prepared for the impending flupocalypse. For it is coming, of this I am certain. The doctor this morning warned Tom that it is more than likely going to work its way through the whole fam damily. I have begun laundry, I have brought in bags of sustenance (from chicken soup and Gatorade to New Years Eve noshes…just in case), I have marshaled my disinfectants for the battle to come. Like preparing for a blizzard, I have food and toilet paper, and am ready to hunker down until it’s all over.
Just…if I’m to fall, let it please please be after Tom has rallied.