To start off 2008, here's a little story from the end of 2007:
Yesterday morning I sat down and had my breakfast. I poured my Cheerios, and finished off the milk. I read a magazine while I ate, then took a shower when I was finished. Donald and I got ready to go run errands, and my stomach started to feel weird. "I don't feel well," I said to Donald. Moments later, I was sitting on the floor in the bathroom certain that I was going to throw up. And I did.
"What did you eat?" asked Donald.
"Cheerios and the last of the milk." I replied, still sitting on the bathroom floor.
"Oh, I thought that smelled bad." said Donald.
"Huurk," I said.
So Donald smelled that the milk was off, then put it back in the fridge.
"I thought you would smell it!" he protested. "You don't take chances with dairy!"
"Then why did you put it back instead of throwing it out?!?" I yelled.
On the last day of 2007, my husband tried to poison me.
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5 comments:
When I'm going to announce that I will vomit, I don't say "huurk." I say "hiilton".
Bad man! Whap! lol
That was actually the sound of the vomiting. At least it was a nice short episode- and I felt better almost immediately.
although i'm sure it was annoying and horrible at the time, it's also pretty funny - i mean, that's a just a lack of logic on donald's part. maybe he though his sense of smell with dairy was not as trustworthy as yours?
Oh, it was definitely funny later, just not when I was praying to the porcelain goddess. :D
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