Sir Barfsalot

Children keep you young, but first they make you old. –Anon.

Kids vomit frequently, particularly on their parents. –Bookfraud

Baby had his first illness a fortnight ago, and it was not pretty for neither child nor parents. In a display so revolting it would make sanitation worker blush, Baby made his stomach flu evident for all to see, and feel. Subsequently, Wife took ill exactly two days after Baby started throwing up. And precisely one hour after Wife got ill, I started heaving. It was, essentially, our own version of “2 Gals 1 Cupp[sic].” (Without the coprophagia).

As Baby sat listlessly while trying to comprehend why he was being forced to drink a nasty fluid called “Pedialyte,” his parents basically lost their minds. The mere thought of food made us sick. My body aged about 10 years: it felt as if gremlins were taking a jackhammer to every square inch of my body.

Oh, and the fucking bedbugs are still in the place. They decided to hold a parade through our apartment on the days we were ill.

This all went down three weeks ago, and although the nausea passed after three days and no food later, I’ve felt as energetic as a Patriots fan at about 11 p.m. after the Super Bowl. And last week, we had the apartment sprayed a seventh time for bed fucking bugs. The exterminator who basically carpet bombed the place. When he was finished, a slick sheen covered our floors. We spent the night at a hotel.

Today, Wife called me to say she’d been bitten (again) by a bedbug, after a few days of bliss. We’re going to have the place sprayed for an eighth time Saturday.

INSERT PRIMAL SCREAM HERE

My options are 1. Kill myself; 2. Run off with “Porsche,” who I met last night at Club Elegance (and boy, did we really hit it off when I gave her my credit card number!); 3. Kill myself; 4. Drink copious amounts of vodka; 5. Kill myself.

All good options indeed.