Everyone in my house is throwing up. Everyone. My son, my daughter, my dog, my… well… that’s it. Almost everyone. Well… three out of the five of us are throwing up. That’s not everyone or even almost everyone, but it is 60%, which is a lot. A little more than half, I guess. So technically a majority of the people in my house are throwing up.
No, that’s not true either. Exactly half of the people in the house are throwing up. But a majority of those who reside in the dwelling. The dependents. Yeah, there we go. Wait, no. I can’t claim the dog as a dependent. Whatever. Three out of the five beings that sleep in the house are throwing up. For now.
Seeing, smelling, hearing or even talking about vomit nearly makes my wife throw up, so she may be next. Then again, worrying that I’ll soon be throwing up is enough to actually make me throw up before I ever contract anything. I don’t like throwing up. My wife doesn’t like other people’s throw up. We’re a sad pair, really.
Apparently something’s going around. Isn’t that always the case? If anyone ever vomits for reasons other than food or alcohol poisoning, it’s because something is going around. And that seems to be the case now. I guess it will always be the case too because if “something is going around” anytime someone vomits then it must not originate anywhere. No one starts the vomiting cycle; it just keeps spinning.
So how do we stop it? I’m afraid we don’t. I mean, we probably could, but I’m afraid it won’t happen. Literally afraid. Like I said, I don’t like throwing up. I’ve heard I’m not alone in this. What’s to like? The lurching, the awful taste, the awfuler smell, the awfulest bile left in your mouth afterwards, the sound of it hitting the toilet water or a trashcan or the floor of the car or whatever. The sinking feeling that that wasn’t the last of it. I’m getting nauseous just writing about it.
The worst part is knowing there’s no escaping it. If someone at work is sick, you and the rest of the office can berate them until they go home. You just tell them over and over again what a horrible person they are for exposing everyone else to it. You remind them how unimportant their work actually is and how out of touch with reality they are for thinking anyone will even notice if their duties are left undone for the next two weeks. But if you live with a person who has it and your main residence happens to be your only residence, then your days are numbered.
I guess I could starve myself in anticipation of the vomiting and hope that there’s nothing in my stomach to come back on me. But I think we all know that if you’re going to wretch, you’re going to wretch. Dry heaving won’t improve the situation much. Maybe I could only eat food that has a chance of tasting good coming up. Not sure what that would be, though. I don’t think that I’ve thrown up anything that tasted good on the way out. Oooh, that must mean I should eat things I’ve never eaten before, like liver and caviar. That might taste… o… k… when I throw… no, that can’t possibly be right. Screw it.
Whatever happens happens. Wish me well through the process and I’ll do the same for you when it’s your turn. Tick… tick… tick.
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