Seven Quick Takes, not linked

1.  I've read it before, but I think that it is worth writing it again:  There is some mysterious grace by which the mother gets sick last.  Dave thought that we, the parents, had dodged the stomach-flu bullet; but I knew better, at least in my case.  Exactly one week after the recovery of all the kids, I began to feel sore and achy and really tired.  Dave kept telling me that it was the high humidity.  I thought, "Well, I know that I don't do well with heat but I'm not usually that bad."  And then the three days of unrelenting nausea arrived like a thief in the night.  I bravely soldiered forward and kept supper on the table.  And in my tummy. I begged, pleaded and assaulted heaven with prayers of, "Please, no throwing up.  Please, no throwing up."  I am not one of those people for whom throwing up relieves the nausea.  Quite the opposite.  And, so, those prayers were answered.  And more than one person asked if there is another baby on the way.

2.  No.

3.  My mother-in-law actually asked Dave the aforementioned question in a funny, roundabout, sort-of way:  "Do you guys need a bigger van?"  Dave looked at her with a why on his face and she responded, "Someone told me that they heard that Elena is pregnant."  She wouldn't divulge her source.    Small towns.  I was left wondering about any empire-waisted dresses that I have worn recently.

4.  I am in the recovery stages of this illness:  about ready to change the sheets and get out of pyjamas.  Dave said that he has never seen me so relaxed in all our eleven years of marriage.  I asked him if he had enjoyed my absence.  He got a funny look in his eyes and said, "Well, the food wasn't that great." Truthfully, other than the pain, I sort of enjoyed these last three weeks.  I was forced off my feet and into super-relaxation mode.  I need to incorporate a lot more of this mode into my daily living:  it is a lot easier on everyone. And, while I spent the last few days near to one bathroom, Dave spent the last few days in the other bathroom... replacing the flooring and painting the walls.  All because we bought a new shower curtain.

5.  I also lost seven pounds over the last three weeks:  a combination of sickness and not eating much out of a desire not to get sick.  When Hannah heard, she asked, "Is this a good or bad thing?"  Hmmm. I don't think that it is easily maintained, though.

6.  Never use bleach before you go to bed.  Dave loves Scrubbing Bubbles.  I am not one for bleach, mostly because I always manage to ruin some item of clothing when using it.  However, after this sickness, I have been using Scrubbing Bubbles with a vengeance.  Last night, before bed, I sprayed the bathroom down with the offensive product.  The result was that my right hand reeked of bleach for the entirety of the night.  In fact, I woke with a start from a dream in which someone had thrown up on a bed and I had to run for the Scrubbing Bubbles and a cloth in order to clean up the mess.  Well, I did just that.  Except it was pitch black and I ran straight into the open closet door, whacking my left eyebrow.  I had to feel my way along the wall until I encountered a mirror above a sink which meant that I had finally found the bathroom.  I then turned on the light, grabbed the spray bottle and cloth and ran back to the wooden bedframe.  Which only existed in my dream.  We don't have a wooden bedframe.  I returned to the bathroom and found the Rescue Cream which I applied generously to my left eyebrow.

7.  I have been watching Doc Martin marathons since being laid-up.  They are hitting a little too close to home:  the last two were about a parasitic infection laying out the whole town and a family struck by salmonella.  Nevertheless, a Cornish fishing town and a brilliant doctor with no bedside manner have proved quite companionable over the last few days.