Last night, while listening to Candy Cane Crawl for the 50th time, I noticed that it was quieter and slower, even than it's supposed to be. I switched to headphones. Same thing. Warbly, now, too. Switched back to regular speakers. Even worse. Dude, Greg Dulli is so hot he fried my sound card. Sexy beast.
Later last night, a peaceful baby nursing and drowsing suddenly sat up and gave a quadruple hurk that covered the whole world in milky puke. This morning we've all puked at least once and are running fevers. I'm glad, actually. Everyone getting sick at once means we can all sip juice and watch TV together, instead of the usual illness tag-team of one then the other, and as soon as the last one is better and I think I might have escaped it, it hits me full force and I'm dealing with two very cooped up newly energized children while I'm the walking dead. So I'm about as happy as a person can be whilst covered in puke.
Head on over to Jo's today to see her review of BabyProofing Your Marriage. I got the same book to review, and I wanted to read it thoroughly and give it a full drubbing, I couldn't get past the blind incoherent rage that would settle in front my my eyes whenever I started reading. But...I read enough to find out why my marriage failed: because I never learned the art of the five minute blow job. I'll have to work on that.