Also celebratory about the fact that my soon-to-be-hubby (aka "the fiance") was so helpful during my barf-day. He missed the first episode, but awoke during the second and then brought me a glass of water after each subsequent puke. He also slept on the floor by the couch while I battled my nausea and made bathroom runs. Even more amazing- he offered to stay home with me, brought me 7 UP on his lunch break, did the dishes once he got home AND *drumroll please* cleaned the barf-stained toilet!
Yeah man, if any of you had doubts 'bout the man I picked *pfftchawoozie* they're outta here! Which reminds me...
Before the nausea and barfing started the fiance and I had an awesome goodnight rap-sesh in bed.
A few days before we had some yams go horribly wrong in our spud drawer. One of the yams could've been cooked, but we deemed the whole batch inedible after seeing the white fuzzed, soggy, mushy, yam-life-juice-leaking corpses in the bag. A couple of the yams went so bad they were oozing liquid out of the grocery bag and into the drawer. Just imagine this specimen below in a pool of its own yam-blood.
We have become much more cautious in our fresh vegetable and fruit supervision since this incident.
Anywho, the raps! I performed a rendition of "God Bless the USA" aka "I'm Proud to be an American" about a yam and his fallen comrades. The fiance belted out a rap about rotting peppers and yams and how he and his "homes" Iroh went to their favorite curry place down the street instead of eating mushy peppers. We also coordinated a "Singing the Yam Blues" duo that had some pretty graphic sections depicting catastrophic yam decomposition. With such a good send off to bed, I can't believe I woke up to pukes.
As for the cats: Iroh has been sitting just out of arms reach next to the desk for days now, occasionally ambling around my legs for some pets. I moved his kitty bed from under the coffee table closer to the desk and he's been happily snoring away next to Mommy. Millie is still possessed by evil kibble spirits. The fiance and I squirted her with water, tossed pillows, and shooed her away for nearly an hour before we got out of bed this morning. We may initiate consistent late night feedings to keep the morning kibble monster away.
In other Millie news I locked myself and the demon in the bathroom today. Not seriously locked, but left the door mostly closed and unlatched. The Mill-star couldn't crack the code. After five minutes of trying to dig her way out through the linoleum she began the "woo technique," rubbing against me and purring her brains out trying to get me to do the work. No dice. I tried getting her to paw open the door, then opened the door a crack where she could press a paw through. After another five minutes of purring and inept pawing, she finally smooshed her face far enough into the crack to pop the door open. I may have to schedule another lesson soon.
