Puking sucks

Yeah, today wasn't the best day. I woke up feeling like complete ass and spent most of the early morning utilizing multiple facets of our ensuite bath.

Not a good way to start a Tuesday.

As much as I didn't want to (things to do, people to see) I called in sick - well, Hubs called for me, truth be told - and I went back to bed. And I didn't move, at all. For fear of more puking. Blech.

What made matters worse is that as I was washing my hands in the still dark early morning that is my commuter hell wake up time, I didn't realize that our regular fragrance free soap, found in our Jonathan Adler light blue soap dispenser, had secretly been replaced by a passionfruit and something scented soap from Bath and Body Works.

Ever notice how, when you're already feeling really gross, a strong smell can just push you over the edge? Yeah. I did. Fabu. I have now glimpsed what morning sickness looks, smells and tastes like. And she ain't pretty. Ah, so much to look forward to if this pregnancy thing ever works out for us.

So despite being at home sick, I still managed to respond to well over 25 emails and participate in two conference calls. Working in my pj's ain't too bad! Even though I technically didn't have to be working. Oh well - at least I got to get stuff done in my jammies while eating toast and drinking tea. By the time the calls rolled around I was feeling a bit better. I could at least move around, which was an improvement from those waking hours.

Got caught up on some tv that I'd pvr'd. Still lots left to watch, but progress is progress, yes?

The rest of the day passed with little of interest happening. The stomach flips came and went, but generally speaking and barring anything unforeseen, I'll be back on that GO train first thing in the morning. Hands smelling of passionfruit and all.

Before I forget, I did promise to tell you the fire department story. You WB gals may have seen this already, so bare with me if this is all old news.

So I have this completely irrational love of firemen. Can't explain it, never have been able to, but here we are.

Saturday night after our big Thanksgiving dinner we were sitting around and our carbon monoxide detector went off. Even though I didn't want to, Hubs called 911 and they dispatched the fire department to check it out. (Note - as much as I thought it didn't warrant a 911 call, we were told when we called and by the firemen that came that it is important to get them to come and do a reading right away - I felt better after that. I hate the thought of wasting emergency personnel's time!)

So the truck shows up to our house and three firemen bounce out. Not in the boots and gear and stuff, but in uniforms...the kind that make you glance at their hands for the ghetto blaster .

One of the guys was older, shorter and won't grace any firefighter calendar in a community near you. Totally nice guy, but no beefcake.

Then there were the other two...

Oh

Mi

Gawd.

Poor Hubs. He knows of my weakness, and as much as I was trying desperately to keep myself composed and contained, all he had to do was look at me to know I was ga ga for these two beautiful men in uniform. What's worse - the CO detector is just outside of our bedroom, so for all intents and purposes, there were bona fide hot firemen this close from my bed.

What is it about firemen that makes us ladies weak in the knees? I can't ever put my finger on it...any insight?

I think the biggest lessons learned from this experience are a) call the fire department if your CO detector goes off, b) CO detectors have an average 5 year life span before they go caput (which is what happened with ours - no CO in the house, everything was just fine) and c) Hubs will be making his way to a costume shop in the very near future to pick himself up a firefighter's uniform.

I'll take trick over treat any day this Hallowe'en!

So there you go. Details of my pukey day and a little firefighter story to try to get the pukiness out of your head.

Guess putting the pukey word in the previous sentence not once but twice negates all that firefighter story's good work. For shame.

I'll try to do better tomorrow.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?