This was not a good morning.

Today is Valentines Day. Happy Valentines Day! Now that that's out of the way, onto my whining.

Today started like any other morning. My alarm went off at 5:45. I ignored it until 6:01. At 6:01, I lept energetically out of bed and crept quietly downstairs to shower. Usually I shower the night before so as not to waste precious sleep time, but I decided to forgo that bit of wisdom last night. Not that it would have saved me otherwise, but it meant that my time would be more pressed. Whatever. So, I did the regular stuff one does in the morning: cleaned and arranged myself. Made lunch for the kids. Set out little Valentines treats for them to find when they woke up. Chocolate of course. I don't have to be the morning parent, so I figured I'd let Dennis deal with the consequences of chocolate in the morning. Muah ha ha. I left gummy tarantulas for him. I'm just that good of a wife. Don't be jealous.

So, my clothes were in the dryer. At this point I was already running a little late, so I was in a bit of a rush. I bounded down the stairs and made the split second descision to skip the last one. I was looking over at the drying rack and in the process of deciding that I should put it away lest some small human trip on it, or decide to use it as a Tarzan swinging device (it has happened, I'm not gonna lie) when suddenly I found myself on my back on the floor. What the...? I'd fallen? Slipped in a puddle of something wet and liquidy. Legs gone completely out from underneath me, head on the floor. Dammit! Had Dennis left a puddle from his wet boots? I'd already found muddy, melted snow puddles in my kitchen the night before. This is such a no no in my world. Punishable by with holding of desert and kisses! No, there was just too much of whatever it was for it to be boot melt. What could it be? Had a pipe leaked? No, there wasn't anything else around. I was covering all of whatever it was. And then the horrible truth dawned on me. There was only one other thing that it could be. WARNING: what is to follow is not pleasant. It's actually really, really, really gross. Really. Proceed with caution.



















It was









Cat vomit. A huge puddle of cat vomit. Cold, stinking, wet, runny, cat vomit. Luckily my clothes were still in the dryer. Clean. Vomit free. I peeled off my robe, wiped my feet on it (guh) and tiptoed NAKED upstairs. Most of me was vomit free, but I didn't even want to check my hair. I got back in the shower. I shudder as I type this. Then I had the distinct pleasure of going back downstairs (in a towel this time) to clean up the offending puddles. I may burn my robe. I haven't decided yet. I don't do well with vomit clean up. I spend most of the time trying very hard not to add my own vomit to the pile, and this morning was no exception. But I did it. It's done. I am vomit-free. Sore in many places, but vomit-free.


The day can only get better from here.