Over the last few years I have had two Christmas's that have featured apocalyptic puking beyond belief. The type wherein you get dehydrated so bad you are delirious, and not in that good Prince way either.
Well nine days to Christmas and Gunnar was puking Saturday, and then we had Cenny up last night redecorating her bedsheets.
I feel it coming with all the paranoia of schizophrenic Coleman supporter. BAd things are in the air, and they are out to get me.