This was, at best, a mixed weekend. It involved a lot of bodily fluids. And, not in a good way.
Let me 'splain.
No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
Saturday:
Saturday was, from all accounts, to be the nicest day ever in Raleigh. Temps were expected to be in the upper 70's with nary a cloud in sight until the evening. Good times. We did our morning things and went to the Farmer's Market. We got some nice bread, were surprised to see fresh spinach and paid homage to the piggy head store. Shmuppie held court and all was well.
I decided to go on an adventure on the way home so we ended up driving all over the place. We managed somehow to get to Cary and then to some odd shopping thing called Cameron Village. (Look it up). Shmuppie fell asleep on the way home and I had a bad feeling. When we got home, she announced "I have to go potty" That meant: I pissed myself. I got the house open and turned back to see her soaking wet. Better times.
So, I had to disassemble the car seat in my car. Well, remember that scene in A League of Their Own when Tom Hanks pees? And keeps on peeing. Then pees some more. That was Shmuppie. She soaked through the cushion and down into the inner workings of the seat. There were puddles! It took me a good 15 minutes of cursing to get the cushion off of the seat, drag the seat out back for a hosing.
Little did I know.
The rest of Saturday went reasonably well. We took down Christmas and it went off without a hitch. All the decorations got put away and stowed neatly in the storeroom. And, I managed to pack more efficiently this time so we actually have a little space in there.
Shmuppie even ate very well all evening. She was hungry after the peeing and ate like a champ.
We hung out, had dinner and watched TV. Other than the piss incident; a good day.
Sunday:
We heard Shmuppie open her door at 8:00. She toddled to the bathroom and we heard her do her things. Then, I heard what sounded like a thick cough. I perked up. I heard her walk to our door and heard the cough again. I popped up in time to watch her puke on our rug. I whacked JewelrySlut and she flew out of bed. Shmuppie had ralphed on our carpet and in the bathroom. She'd also shat a small mountain. Wheeee!
I cleaned up the kid and JewelrySlut took rug duty. We both figured this was fallout from Saturday's eating binge. We thought we'd be safe.
Thought.
But, the morning progressed. Shmuppie was excused from breakfast to lie on the couch and watch TV. JewelrySlut and I got to read both papers in peace. I needed a haircut, so I went out for one.
Now, I'm nearly bald at this point. But, it's falling out uniformly so it's hard to have hair that doesn't suck. I wear it short and pushed forwards. It's not to hide the bald; it's to minimize looking like a chemo patient. Well, to say I got a bad haircut is an understatement. Normally, I say "1/4" all around" and that's it. That was not it.
The hairchick took the clippers and scalped my "bangs" (as they are). So, my hair stops at roughly the top of my head. As you go down my forehead, there's what appears to be 2 days of stubble. It looks like...well...like nothing I've ever seen. I have no idea what to do. I don't feel like adding "Shave your forehead" to my daily routine but I may have to. Here's what I'm going to try: let the shaved part grow this week. If, on Sunday, it looks silly, I'll shave it. I don't need to be in NJ next week with the mange. Maybe the front part will grow out somehow and then I can let the shaved part grow back in. But, if I let it grow too much, I could find myself in Flock of Seagulls territory. And I don't want to be there.
Thoroughly shorn, I went home.
We were doing something in the basement when I noticed that Shmuppie had a funny look on her face. I asked if she needed to go potty and raced upstairs to grab a garbage can. She hit the top step and yakked...in the garbage can. Good thinking by me. This was where it got funny. Shmuppie hasn't prayed to the porcelain God in a while. Not since she was like 18 months old. So, as it's coming out, she's asking "Why am I doing this". It was kinda funny.
I took the bag-o-puke outside and nearly lost my mind. Some of our neighbors had tossed a weekend's worth of garbage not in the dumpster, but on the ground next to it. I was not happy. But, they were also stupid enough to leave one if their kid's notebooks on the ground. I got my gloves and shoveled it all into the dumpster. I also kept the notebook as evidence. They're being fined for their indiscretion. You mess with Da Prez, you get the horns.
Suitably angry, I started on dinner. I was making chicken cacciatore and needed some time to get things going. Shmuppie and JewelrySlut were coloring in the living room and all was well. As it got close to dinner time, things were coming together in the kitchen. I had pasta about to finish and the chicken was ready to come out of the oven. When, suddenly, I got "the look" from the other room. I grabbed a serving bowl and dashed into the living room...almost in time.
Shmuppie did the Technicolor yawn. She hit her little table, the chair, the throw rug, the floor, me...and the bowl. JewelrySlut was nowhere to be found, so I started yelling for her. I had puke on my feet and legs AND I had a pot of pasta to get into a colander. JewelrySlut took Shmuppie to the bathroom for a hosing down. I drained my pasta, took the chicken out of the oven and yelled for some new pants.
Cleanup ensued. I had to scoop puke off the furniture and rug. I ended up taking her little chair to our shower to be sprayed. Js and Shmuppie were in the process of bathing. The throw rug was a mess. I had to soak it down and use a scrub brush to get it out. It was fun.
We ate and, stupidly, gave Shmuppie some pastas to eat. Bad idea.
After dinner, we put her on the couch again. No sooner than we sat her down, I had to go running with the trash can again. We had another huge puke. It was a nice evening for us all. Laundry was run...and run again, and we sat upstairs to watch TV in case we had another one.
Well, it's 10:00 and Shmuppie is apparently still asleep. I guess she was tired. We kept her home from school today to rest. It looks like she needed it.
Work remains slow and I've found myself looking for trouble. I'm about to start screwing a vendor over because I can. It should be fun.
And...I'm officially certified as a Mail Quality Control Specialist by the USPS.
Keep your panties on ladies.