On New Year's Eve Yuula woke up from her nap with a fever of 103.2°. I took her to her into our bedroom and turned on the Twilight Zone marathon. It was the one where the guy sees himself kill his wife on the television and the he does it. Then I started to feel achy. Laura was on her way home from year-ending home goodsing and I'm sure looking forward to a fun evening of confetti and countdowns. Little did she know what wait for her.
At this point my temperature was only about 101.7° but I sure did feel like I'd been steamrolled by, well, a steamroller. And not comically like in A Fish Called Wanda. More like in that terrible Stephen King movie Maximum Overdrive where the machines come to life and try and take over the world.
By the time Laura carried herself into our infirmary it was clear that this was not to be a eve we'd be celebrating. The confetti was cancelled and medication administered and blankets taken very seriously.
January 1st was not much better. I spent the better part of the day in a nyquil trance fighting back pains and an eager bladder to stay asleep. Laura stayed with Yuula downstairs fighting their own little battle of neediness and baby diarrhea.
January has come, and pretty much gone. Temperatures have subsided, except for Laura, who has just today decided to begin the sickening process. And for a swift kick to our collective congested chests our hot water heater sprung a leak in its base and the shutoff valve seems to be stuck leaving us with no water, unless you count the puddle on the bathroom floor.
2013 can really only get better...
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