Live-blogging at the Floyd home

The previous post about buffalo wings makes one think of yummy chunky bleu cheese dressing. The following should completely replace that yummy image with another chunky--and much less tantalizing--image, and I sincerely apologize.

It is 1:42 AM on Saturday morning.

Erin had planned to sleep at a friend's house tonight, but at 11:30 PM she called to say her stomach was hurting, and after a second call at midnight I went and picked her up.

She had mentioned that she felt like throwing up, so I even took a barf bowl with me in the van.

Arriving home, she felt barfy but didn't spew any chunks, and she finally got to sleep after 1 AM.

15 minutes ago, I heard her lurching into the bathroom and then I heard a big splat. A big WET splat.

Getting up, I peeked around the corner and saw Erin frozen in mid-stride. Unfortunately, that mid-stride was about 3 feet shy of the toilet, and the floor was covered with little chewed bits of raw carrots and other flotsam and jetsam.

Obviously not wanting to step into the existing mess, she barfed again where she stood. And probably again. Thanks to her height, the chunks and liquid splattered quite handsomely.

One could even see that the pizza she had eaten for dinner had been festooned with at least one partial mushroom.

Cindy was able to extricate Erin, and get her into another room.

Armed with a squeegee and many paper towels, I was able to get all the visible stuff up. As you might image, a rose smells like a rose, and barf doesn't. The stink--actually the noxious fumes--was tremendous, and it almost caused Cindy to add her own bit (bits?) to the effluvium.

Cindy is now mopping up and doing some laundry (Erin's winter coat for some reason had been lying on the bathroom floor and was unluckily within the 'Splatter Zone.')

Afterwards, Erin said she felt MUCH better--her stomach didn't hurt at all.

No surprise there!

She apologized, ruefully saying, 'I was trying to get to the toilet.' Then she promptly went back to bed.

The only mystery during this entire episode was, Where did Erin leave the barf bowl?

Alas, the mystery was solved. Sherlock Holmes is not needed here.

It was in her right hand the entire time.

She is clearly blessed with mouth-floor coordination, but she obviously needs to work on her hand-mouth coordination.

Still, though the barf (and toilet) bowl was sadly empty, our cup can truly be said to be half full, as she didn't do this on the new carpet!