There is nothing like a good stomach virus to remind you of how well you actually feel when you are not sick. Perhaps I should not have called it a “good” stomach virus – there is nothing good about it. Two days of waiting for the next episode of something horrible to happen, no notice as to whether the event will be heads or tails, is not the kind of days off from work that I yearn for.
Little things that you deal with without thinking about them become intolerable. As any fan of the show knows, Mr. Helix and I have a pride of tiny lions taking up residence with us, and one guard cat on the front stoop. That means that there are three cans of cat food to be doled out over the course of the day, which is usually something that I do. Mr. Helix is pretty grossed out by the wet cat food, so he does dry cat food duty.
Now, it’s not like I enjoy the smell of the wet cat food, and I enjoy it even less after having had to eat wet dog food as a punishment on the show. (There is something about actually involving another sense – of taste – into the mix, which makes the smell even more potently disgusting. Now you aren’t disgusted because you can imagine what it tastes like – you are disgusted because you know in vivid living color what it tastes like!) When you have a stomach virus, the smell is completely intolerable, as you are on the edge of the Big Ralph already. I didn’t need anyone or anything tipping me over into bowl land. Thankfully, Mr. Helix took over wet cat food duty during the duration of the virus, or there would have been a clean up on Aisle Couch.
The other thing you become acutely aware of is the cleanliness of your toilet and bathroom floor, or should I say lack thereof. It’s bad enough to have to become that familiar with both on a fairly frequent basis, but when you face to face with your own housekeeping inadequacies, it adds insult to injury. Just rest assured that Mr. Clean and I will be going steady this evening, now that the tempest in my belly is just a mild lapping at the shore. Not that anyone else will likely be looking at my bathroom at quite that angle (let’s hope), but now that I know…oh, the horrors! It cannot be unseen.
Another thing that is intolerable when you are home, sick and nauseated,is the phone and the front door. I actually got a visit from Jehovah’s Witnesses while convalescing on the couch. There was no hiding from them, as the couch is right next to the living room window, and they were already on the stoop smiling at me before I realized their dastardly mission. I was able to shoo them away quickly, because I was also on the phone at the same time, trying to get rid of a sales call that I should not have picked up. In my nauseated haze, I thought I recognized the number as an important caller, but I was really, really wrong. Talk about kicking someone when they are down! Nausea and Salespeople and Jehovah’s Witnesses, oh my! I should have taken a big whiff of the cat food before opening the door…that would have been an interesting tale for the “Worst Visit of the Day” war stories hour at the bar. I mean, if you were a Jehovah’s Witness, pounding the pavement only to be greeted by all kinds of abuse, you’d be at the bar all evening too, wouldn’t you?
Well, luckily I can now attest that the cat food schedule has been reinstated, the Do Not Call List has been updated, and new sponges will be brought out to deal with the evil bathroom. As exciting as all that sounds, the lesson to take away is to remember that any day scrubbing the porcelain throne is better than a day kneeling before it.