"Curiously, the only thing that went through the mind of the bowl of petunias, as it fell, was, 'Oh no, not again!' Many people have speculated that if we knew exactly why the bowl of petunias had thought that we would know a lot more about the nature of the universe than we do now." ~The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
I'm stopping to offer the quote as context for the title. As you might guess from the juxtaposition, I'm feeling a bit like a bowl of petunias here at midnight thirty. What's going on? Let me explain...
(Emetophobes beware. Have some Red Pandas frolicking in the snow instead.)
Just as I was settling down to go to sleep, Firstborn picked up where Secondborn left off last Friday: being noisily ill all over his bed. Which probably means we're in for another week of illness. This, just as Secondborn was starting to get over being sick himself.
On top of that, Beautiful Wife is now coughing and looking uncomfortable, and has moved out to the living room. And frankly, I'm feeling none too stable myself, though that could be the product of carrying Firstborn to the shower and changing his sheets.
So, our house is once again a plague ward.
Somehow, the fact that we've gone through this before is filling me with dread for what's to come, rather than confidence that we'll make it through again. (We will, I don't doubt that, but the knowledge is wholly insufficient to stave off the dread.) Haven't we had enough of this shit?
Apparently not. In fact, I'll go further: no, of course not. We have kids.
I'd claim that the amount of garlic in my lunch (and, now, permeating my entire bloodstream and probably my nervous system as well), or possibly the amount of rum I had after dinner, or both, has clearly proven too much for whatever germ, virus, or blasphemous Elder God is behind this - but I have a sneaking suspicion that my body is about to prove me wrong. Maybe not; we'll see. But if I don't post anything tomorrow, that's almost certainly why.