While I do enjoy new experiences and breaking out of a routine, the whole food poisoning adventure I can really do without. For yet another magical event, I spent many hours alternating between water, pepto bismol, and brushing my teeth. While Dylan was excited I was home all day, he became grumpy that my multiple trips through the Hobbit Hole were not to:
a. give him a kitty treat, or
b. give him a kitty treat.
He eventually became uber cranky and started biting my ankles any time I passed him. I also had to be vigilant about him jumping on my tummy--one of many, many things that wasn't pleasant that day.
This classy event marked the end of a long weekend that had been fairly pleasant. I was away to Glenwood Springs (by train) and sat in hot tubs and pondered why I suck so much at my new video game "Big Brain Academy" which is solely designed to make you feel stupid. I did not stay in the insane-aslyum-hostel I'd been in before, nor did I have random people on acid/cocaine appear in my room, nor was there any week-old milk decomposing in the garbage can. No, I did not stay in the hostel and no, I did not miss it.
Alas, my story is boring. I think I puked up the best part of it. Alas.
Moral of today's story (a.k.a. fact of the day): ankle bites from cats take a little while to heal.
An Erinku:
O pepto
I weep
with joy
for your pinkness
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