Sonny Limatina
Ding dong ding
- Joined
- Oct 3, 2006
- Posts
- 21,875
Last night was emotionally draining. After we fell asleep, the contents of our daughter's stomach planned and executed a swift escape through her mouth, with the most agile of the escapees--probably corn, as that one's always struck me as shifty--landing near the far wall of the kids' room.
As we brought our daughter into the bathroom, the brave stomach-rebels, undeterred by our presence or by the rugs, bookshelves, walls or cabinets they were forced to land on along the way, continued to breach her face in the quest for freedom. The last of them made it out just before we reached the toilet, where they most surely would have drowned, the crafty rascals.
Once we wiped the unluckier casualties from her body and hair and from the sheets, pillow, bed frame, stuffed animals, hair clips, floor, rug, walls, books, stool, doors (2), and the base of the toilet, where the last of them had landed before leaving the inside of the bowl pristine, it fell to me to bring the carcass-soaked laundry down to the washer.
This is where it gets emotionally difficult for me. As I was putting the cloth-stew into the unlucky machine, I reflected on the amount of clean-up we'd just done, and how much we'd probably missed. There must be invisible throw-up entrails everywhere upstairs, then tracked along the route from the bathroom to the washer by my feet, and left all over the top of the machine by my fingers and little sprays of washer water. As I watched the last traces of our little girl's awful vomiting incident being swallowed into the soapy soup, I realized something incredibly sad and disappointing:
There is almost no chance I could kill my wife and get away with it. There would be microscopic traces everywhere, and the first thing the cops would ask is why I did a load of laundry at 1:00 am. The field of forensic science has proceeded past any chance I might have had at getting away clean.
It was a very hard night for me emotionally, and I'm having a very hard time today. I hope you'll understand if I seem a little down. I feel directionless and sad.
However, the pot of coffee I made this morning is excellent--one of the best I've made recently. Good with the bad, I suppose.
Anyhoo.
As we brought our daughter into the bathroom, the brave stomach-rebels, undeterred by our presence or by the rugs, bookshelves, walls or cabinets they were forced to land on along the way, continued to breach her face in the quest for freedom. The last of them made it out just before we reached the toilet, where they most surely would have drowned, the crafty rascals.
Once we wiped the unluckier casualties from her body and hair and from the sheets, pillow, bed frame, stuffed animals, hair clips, floor, rug, walls, books, stool, doors (2), and the base of the toilet, where the last of them had landed before leaving the inside of the bowl pristine, it fell to me to bring the carcass-soaked laundry down to the washer.
This is where it gets emotionally difficult for me. As I was putting the cloth-stew into the unlucky machine, I reflected on the amount of clean-up we'd just done, and how much we'd probably missed. There must be invisible throw-up entrails everywhere upstairs, then tracked along the route from the bathroom to the washer by my feet, and left all over the top of the machine by my fingers and little sprays of washer water. As I watched the last traces of our little girl's awful vomiting incident being swallowed into the soapy soup, I realized something incredibly sad and disappointing:
There is almost no chance I could kill my wife and get away with it. There would be microscopic traces everywhere, and the first thing the cops would ask is why I did a load of laundry at 1:00 am. The field of forensic science has proceeded past any chance I might have had at getting away clean.
It was a very hard night for me emotionally, and I'm having a very hard time today. I hope you'll understand if I seem a little down. I feel directionless and sad.
However, the pot of coffee I made this morning is excellent--one of the best I've made recently. Good with the bad, I suppose.
Anyhoo.
