You like Old Spice, right?

Not good, my friends.

It started after dinner tonight. My stomach just didn’t feel right, you know? I didn’t eat all that much, but I just felt kinda uncomfortable. Then Auggie woke up from his late nap and was ready to eat his dinner, so I left Tim to handle that.

By the time they were done, I was officially queasy. By the end of the West Wing, I was full-blown nauseous.

Now, I’m just laying here quivering, hoping that this isn’t the virulent stomach flu that is tearing its way through the Midwest’s collective digestive system. (Aren’t you glad that I left out the details about the bathroom unpleasantness, the stomach cramps and the teary call to my mother?)

So what now?

I’ve got stuff to do. I have no time (not even the 24 hours my mother assures me it takes to get through it) to deal with a stomach virus. Because once I get over it, Auggie will get it, then Tim will get it, and all of a sudden, it’s Merry Christmas and I’m buying Old Spice for everyone at your friendly neighborhood Walgreens.

Is it better to wish that I just ate some bad Tofu Pup at our play group potluck this afternoon? Dude, if I am the epicenter of this stomach bug cutting a disastrous swath through our play group, they may never speak to me again. Or they might just vomit every time someone mentions my name. Either way, not pleasant.

Not good, my friends.