...undefined maladies and hemorrhoid cream.

(Warning:  if you know the specific orifice the aforementioned cream is used on, you can guess how shitty (pun intended) a post this will be before the end.)

I'm used to my bitch headaches.  I get one every few weeks or so, and it makes the day suck.  I even have another drug to try to see if it will kill them, although that need has yet to arise.  What I can't stand are the undefined sicknesses that don't fall clearly into one category or another, but could be caused by any number of things.

Like my daughter's puke-a-thon the other night.  It started that day with her not wanting to really eat, then complaining her tummy hurt.  I managed to get her to eat some butter toast. That ended up coating my seat on the couch (more on the cleanup in a bit).  She ended up getting down to the dry heaves, and ended passing out on the floor in her panties, wrapped in a blanket.  No fever, no other symptom, just puke.  The next day she was fine.  On the plus, she's gotten the sour stomach before, so no worries.

And no trips to the emergency room to make up for a lack of parenting skill.  That was where I had to go after work on Thanksgiving night, because the boy was puking and fevering, and was fine the next day, all thanks to the ministrations (or lack thereof) of the Succubus.  But that was another post (that I failed to write).

So back to my couch, which is past threadbare.  My ass cushion is particularly worn, and the fact that it absorbed prechool hurl deep was a bad thing.  I tried scrubbing it.  I tried spray odor eliminators (the cheap shit, not the Febreze brand).  Sit on it and you smell vomit.  Finally, I went with the old reliable of baking soda on it overnight.  I think I bought the couch a little more time, because it's breathable again.

Unfortunately, the real challenge of being a single parent is being a sick single parent.  Because, very simply, you can't just curl up and sleep. You can entertain your kids with tales of ass blood (although it's gallows humor when wiping is an issue).  But you still have to manage the younglings while trying to curl up and die.  On the down side, there was no puke involved.  I say that it's the down side because if you puke it out, it gets out of your belly quickly.  At least it gets out of there more quickly than the other end.

I'm not sure if it was food poisoning (I made chili. Good chili) or some light flu bug (which makes no sense because I don't have much human contact), but I'm still feeling the effects 24 hours later.

Needless to say, the progression from chunky soft serve ( the source of ass blood and screaming while wiping) to ass soup (which is still haunting me), aided by the cream (a necessity when you have as  irregular movement-ravaged a sphincter as I), it ain't good.  Then came the fevering, which caught me late in the afternoon, which challenged my ability to make supper.  I even threw myself into a sick soak bath (which the kids enjoyed tormenting me during, constantly, necessitating the (wet) boot to the head) before almost passing out momentarily, then curling back up on the couch until the kids bedded, then sitting on the unpuked portion of the couch (the baking soda still doing its work) curled up until it was late enough to roll the boy out for the late night pee (it's either that or definitely change piss sheets in the morning).

And whatever it is, I can still hear the rumbling and gurgling in the intestinal tract.  So I'm not over it by a long shot.  But I'm hungry again (I wasn't last night), so I'm guessing I must be on the mend, just in time for a bacon deluxe burger.  But until then, here's a clip that has little to do with any of the post other than the title "Asses of Fire" just captured yesterday's rectal agony.



Look on the bright side: At least I didn't write this post while on the crapper....