MaxieC, Peristalsis Reverser

Last night I was driving home from Fat Camp, and the cellphone rang. It was The Mrs.:

The Mrs.: "Can you come home?"

Me, CherkyB: "I'm on my way. Why?"

The Mrs.: "MaxieC is barfing all over."

Grate. And my presence helps this because...? I pondered.

I figured that either there was going to be a lot of laundry/cleanup, or maybe she just needed moral support. Much like I went and got The Mrs. to stand with me while Ethel died, despite the fact that there was nothing she could do to actually help.

When I got home, I found The Mrs. and MaxieC lying on a towel on the floor of our master suite next to the tub. I also found our bed completely stripped bare excepting for a towel over the spot I normally sleep. I lifted the towel and felt. Yup. Soaking wet.

Wonderful. MaxieC did just barf "all over". Rather, he barfed very specifically in our bed on my side.

I put all the bedding into the washing machine. One of the great things about these front-loader washing machines is that you can fit in two king-size sheets, a king-size blanket, a bunch of pillow cases, and a few towels, and there is still plenty of room for water, etc.

I hung out with The Mrs. and MaxieC for a while, then they headed to bed. My bed. I headed to MaxieC's bed, as I really didn't want to sleep on top of a barf puddle with the distinct possibility of being suddenly also underneath a brand new barf puddle.

This morning, MaxieC seem to be OK. We went outside, and he hit the plastic ball that hangs from the tree with his plastic bat and watched the contractors start framing the deck. I'm hoping no one else gets sick, or it'll be a long drive tomorrow to the Medicine Bows, where there is no cellphone coverage and thus no way for us to cancel our fambly lunch meeting.