I was very, very sick yesterday. It's a good thing that our bed is only about five feet from our toilet.
But fine. Whatever. We all get sick from time to time. It's not like I have a job and I have to call in sick.
Except, I have two little kids to take care of and a husband who is in phase. In phase means, well, I'm not really sure what it means. But it means that he works a lot and can't come home for little emergencies like a puking wife.
Since I no longer know any of my neighbors (they've all cycled through this summer--you've got to love living on base) I was pretty much stuck putting my seven-year-old in charge.
When I asked her to make lunch she replied, "What shall I make, Mom? I can make several things. All without using the stove." That kind of scared me.
In the afternoon I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep for a couple of hours. I only awoke when my foot made contact with something warm and wet. What the? It seems Buffy the wonder puppy had been sleeping with me and when she couldn't get down from the bed, she decided to just relieve herself wherever was convenient. Three times. Three times!
I was feeling a little better by then and decided to venture downstairs. But I was scared. I was very scared. Did I need to call in the National Guard for disaster relief?
Okay, there were toys everywhere. The dining room table was covered with art supplies. The kitchen counters were slathered with peanut butter. And there were toys in the freezer! The freezer? But where are the kids?
Alright, I could hear them in the playroom. I didn't even want to think about how the playroom was going to look, especially since that room has floor-to-ceiling windows and the neighbors can see our mess.
I found the kids playing quietly together. Completely naked.
They were naked! In the room with all the windows!
Our new neighbors are going to love us.
With all the sex sounds they hear coming from our place. And now naked kids. They probably think they have hippies living on the street.
Or worse. Democrats.