I'm sick. That's where I've been. Sick in bed or in front of the computer. I finally broke down and took prednisone last night because at 4AM, Mike begged me to.

At 5AM, I finally got to sleep.

I'm tired, but I'm better.

Well, I've got bronchitis now.

I just got the laundry caught up and now, here I am again. I'm hoping that I don't end up endlessly sick so much that I don't get the opportunity to get my flu shot.

I bought a midnight ticket to see Harry Potter at midnight on Thursday night. I'm going by myself because I'm the only one who can stay up that late. My schedule's so screwed up from being sick, it's just craziness.

I've got a lot I want to say, but I'm too sick and tired to go there. I just wanted to let you know, I'm not dead, but I am sure thinking I'm going to die soon when I cough.

Everyone is finally feeling better. I tried something stupid last night because I was hungry and then was highly uncomfortable all night long. Note to self: jalapeno-artichoke dip and tortilla chips is a bad choice soon after tummy flu. With my advancing years, I've become less tolerant of peanuts, so while there used to be almond butter, there's not now. I also am fresh out of hummus. Cheese just didn't sound good. Obviously, protein was the desired thing last night, but nothing I had in the house sounded good.

Today, is Mike's profit sharing day. The profits are down, though, so we're expecting a hit. I've already figured that into the budget, but if it's worse than anticipated, then Christmas will be slim this year. We're kind of holding our breaths. We talked about Christmas last night, but without a sure sense of budget, we're afraid to plan tons.

Next year, should be a lot better. Mike's company typically cycles every 3 years, so we're holdin' our butts, in the interim. They've already said it will affect raises, which sucks because it affected his raise last year, too, in a really bad way.

I'm going to be substitute teaching starting after Christmas, so I will be contributing to the household income.

I'm getting better. At least things have returned to only the runs.

If you've ever wondered what it's like to watch a large woman sprint through the house to the bathroom, come on over to my house. You'd probably be laughing your butt off, which trust me, is a lot better than what I've been doing with my butt lately.

Russell was trying to convince me all day that he was sick, too, but then he ate like a pig and he hasn't hurled once. I told him that to stay home he was going to have to hurl or he was going to school. I also told him he's off Runescape for two weeks because essentially he's not leaving his room to eat, bathe, or take his meds, nor is he sleeping. I think if he was doing those things AND playing, I'd be okay, but he's not caring for himself. Surprisingly enough, he's fine about going to school.

My intestines are struggling to figure out normal. I finally bought yogurt tonight. My stomach is wrecked this evening. I don't think it's as a result of the yogurt, but just how I'm going through recovery. I'm distended with gas so badly that I look pregnant. My gas is so loud you can hear it moving and whining through my abdomen from some distance. I've taken to just showering after each race to the bathroom because wiping all those sore spots is too much. I've lit a candle for my lost intestinal health -- actually, to keep the stench to a dull scream because it's 30 freakin' degrees outside and that fan is COLD and loud.

And yet, the fun never ends.

This entry is a gross one. If you continue to read, you've been warned.

A couple days ago, Genny had a stomach bug -- she barfed all over our bedding, the hallway, the bathroom, etc. Then when we were cleaning up from round one, she puked in her bucket in the livingroom and then dumped the bucket. She had a couple more rounds, but they were relatively uneventful.

Today, is my turn.

I've had stomach cramps, food's not interesting, and I've had the runs, but even after being in bed all day, I got up about 10 minutes after Mike went to bed, went into the bathroom for my ritualistic runs, and then when I stood up, I felt things adjust in my belly, so I sat back down. I started to get woozy enough to see stars and I yelled to Mike that I was passing out because I'm thinking, "Shit, what if I pass out and hit my head on the tub or something?" And then I started to projectile all over the tub, while sitting on the john. As this was happening, I remember giving birth to Genny and having the same thing happen -- I just was all over the room because I didn't have a contained place.

Because after that, I felt a lot better, which had me keep thinking about the The Hungry Caterpillar who eats a green leaf and after that he feels a lot better.

The really icky thing? (Like this wasn't icky enough) is that we're running out of buckets because both Mike and Russell are feeling a little nauseous, too.

I don't think there's enough yoga for this. I really really don't.