I'm sick as a dog, a disgusting bodily fluidy sick that cannot be controlled. So is the boy. I didn't know the MEANING of projectile vomiting until I witness Lilo come up with more STUFF than seems possible from a little body. I have to go rent a carpet cleaner. For real.. this is a super mess. And now Tommy has it and is feeling bad, bad, bad.
And this is after flu shots, mind.
On the plus side, I have been freed from the contract to Ballys prison gym. My previous gym was not only miles away but looked like it belonged in Sing-Sing. ICK. I'm a gym rat of LOOOONG standing, and I demand a certain level of, oh, cleanliness is a good place to start. My new 24 hour fitness is light, open and you don't have to make an appointment for childcare. No bellydancing, unfortunately, but I will try to find a place here in Long Beach once I get Lilo into a nice daycare situation. The fact that I'm not competing with Big Pussy for the equipment is a huge bonus. (No, shocked relatives, he was a character in the Sopranos, check the wiki)
I'm off to scrub my brain with the latest episode of ANTM. ciao.