I currently lying on the bathroom floor, staring at the grooves in the tile, knowing there are a gazillion tiny germs just waiting to infect me with something horrible.
A couple days ago, Carl had to take me to the ER because I was throwing up, like Linda-Blair-projectile-vomitting-in-The-Exorcist throwing up. SO. GROSS. And apparently I passed out at some point. I probably saw myself naked in the mirror. Yeah – that’s where you’re supposed to laugh.
After twenty-four agonizing hours in the hospital, they released me. Aren’t you supposed to feel better after you leave the hospital? Maybe that’s just not meant to work that way or I didn’t get the memo or something because right now? Right now as I’m lying on the floor here? I feel like shit. Worse. Worse than shit. And I don’t even know what that is.
And to boot, all three kids are sick with something and the 8-year-old is feeling like how I was feeling a couple days ago and boy, does that sentence look strange when I look at it.
So I gave the keys to the minivan to my parents who are taking the kids to the doctor’s office and ohmygod, my parents are probably going to take my car and the kids back to Seattle with them.
Is that such a bad thing?
Shit. I’m delirious. Prince is with me. Growling at who knows what the fuck he’s growling at. Maybe he sees all those germs that are attacking me right now.