The Plague

The epidemic flu running through our neighborhood hit our house tonight. Bret came home from work with a horrible stomach ache. He has since paid a visit to the porcelein God in the bathroom and is running a 101.7 fever. Ugh. I've instructed him to stay behind closed doors in the bedroom until he's better and I can get in there with a case of lysol cans. I've told the kids that they probably should leave daddy be so that they don't come down with it. I myself have fleed the bedroom and will be staying in the guest room downstairs. Thankfully, he's acting like a big boy and hasn't whined about it once.

Bret is the seventh person in our neighborhood alone to come down with it. Kinda makes you wonder if we were loving on all of our neighbors a bit too much at midnight on New Year's Eve, doesn't it?

Well, I'm going to go wash my hands again in scalding hot water. I feel kind of bad leaving Bret in there all alone tonight, but I am so horribly and deathly afraid of throwing up. However, if I get it, I do expect him to be there holding my hand and rubbing my back through out my bout with it. And my mom can expect the traditional "Mom, I threw up. I'm so sick." phone call, too.