This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things!

As I scrubbed vomit out of (or rather, into) the one piece of "nice" furniture we own, I pictured myself in a muumuu, cigarette clinging to my withered lips, shouting, "This is why we can't have nice things!"

Yes, in sickness and in health, our sweet Gizmo is bound and determined to deface every single surface in this apartment. And I mean every surface. The walls, the kitchen cabinets, the brown chair, the purple chair, the couch cushions, our bedspread, the bookshelves, the end table--well, you get the idea. At least he knows how to properly hold a pen. Writing readiness.

Not quite so humorous is the fact that our sweet Gizmo is sick, yet again. Two weeks ago the cold from, well you know, came into our bodies and has yet to completely release us. On top of that, Gizmo has a terribly uncomfortable fever and all over aches and pains. I actually took him to the doctor today--that's how bad it is. B.daddy and I both know it's just viral and there's nothing to be done outside of Tylenol and lots of love and fluids. But, you know, it reaches a point when you want a trained medical professional to say all you can do is give him "supportive care." Gotta love the medical term for TLC!