Getting Acquainted with the Bathroom

I drove home from whichever school I was at this afternoon (sometimes I lose track) and a morning full of stern faced lawyers and even sterner (that should be a word) judges, and had to work hard not to blow a chunk or two out the window. It seems I've caught Zo's gift of a bug too, so now the Zedder's hit list reads:

1. Grandma

2. Dad

Who's next? My money's on June, but then she usually eludes generalizations so I could be wrong.

Yikes I feel like popo. Dead dreary and stomach flippy...I believe those are the medical terms used to describe this stomach virus that I seem to have inherited from my daughter. I'm not quite sure which end I should point at the toilet and that's typically a very, very bad turn of events. I'm just thankful that I'm still in the frame of mind that I can decipher which one I'm better off engaging in. I've been in worse states, and in those moments clarity was questionable.

Today, I came home to a sleeping Zo (Thank whatever God you choose) and so I could fall into bed without any obstacles. I slept for about an hour and the when I woke up I had a treasure chest of Zoey gifts on the bed beside me...there was Crosby, Stills, and Nash, a wide assortment of finger puppets, the Fever Pitch DVD, a tactile play thingy, a large stuffed pig, and her travel kit including thermometer, mucus sucker, nail clippers, etc...I also woke to an odd assortment of dirty laundry from Zo's laundry bag....Oh, and a sleeping cat, although I don't imagine that Zedder had anything to do with that. It was a nice way to wake up, although opening my eyes and feeling better would have been preferred.

Ugh...someone punch me in the face.