I got sick this week.
This is notable for one reason:
It was an “All exits, no waiting” scenario.
And since there’s only one toilet and the exits are on opposite ends of me, I RUINED the bathroom.
First time this ever happened to me.
My guess is that I either caught the norovirus or I got food poisoning.
From sushi.
How awful is that?
I can’t even look at a slice of sake without feeling sick to my stomach.
The good news is I survived and I’m back at work.
The bad news is that it feels like I’ve been hit by a train.
Body aches up the wazoo. . .
Or OUT the wazoo, as it is in my case.
The worst part of it all, besides ACTUALLY being sick, is that I had an audience.
Round one: My youngest son watched me clean the walls in the bathroom and then TOLD ALL HIS FRIENDS ABOUT IT. He has also taken to calling me “Poopy McPooperson.” So there’s that.
Round two: My oldest son watched me throw up in a garbage can and proceeded to tell me that it was happening to me because I wouldn’t buy him a $45,000 sports car.
That’s the kind of sympathy you get when you’re the mother of boys.
I didn’t mind gaining a little weight.