My little peanut has been sick for the last few days. The only problem is that she doesn't give any warning before it's too late. Last night it had been a few hours since her last episode so we had relaxed a bit.
BIG MISTAKE. HUGE.
What follows is a play by play:
She leaned forward and I saw her face. Leaping up I grabbed her and hurried to the bathroom. My arms held out in front of me, her facing away. I didn't make it two steps before she started spewing like a fire hose.
Two steps away from the bathroom my carpet make way for some lovely oak wood flooring. (the type of flooring isn't really relevant but I was trying to give you something other than vomit to think about)
As soon as my foot his the slick surface I slipped on the remains of the peanuts dinner. Falling to the floor I managed to ensure no harm came to the little one but I was not so lucky myself. My knee smacking onto the hard wood floor with a lovely thud.
I have slid down an entire flight of wooden stairs, wiped out while skiing so spectacularly that Ski patrol came over, been tackled and wrestled and competed in any number of sports including full contact martial arts. Never once have I received anything worse than a bruise.
I've never broken, sprained, pulled or strained anything!
Oh how the mighty have fallen!
To be taken down by vomit and to not even have the story start with "I was so drunk."
Scott says I shouldn't horrify people by talking about vomit but I say that it the best part of the story. Who cares if I slipped on a melted ice cube or some spilled juice? LAME!
Slip on vomit? HILARIOUS! At least it was after the pain subsisted.
The moral is that just because you are old and boring doesn't mean you have to stop telling stories about being covered in vomit. :-)
In case you are curious. It was been a little over a week and I have been back to the gym. I think I'm about %85 and that isn't bad for someone who has suddenly started to fall apart.