And Mike Comes Tumbling After...

Last week, Mike was in Idaho for a training class. Sarah and I were planning on meeting him there for a mini-vacation. The mini-vacation was nixed when Sarah started hurling and showed no signs of recovery on Wednesday morning.

By Wednesday night, I was in stage III gastric distress and made a phone call to Mike, "You have to come home. NOW!" He flew back the next morning to care for us, and boy, was I glad to see him.

I slept most of the next few days (bedsores were beginning to become a concern) until last night when loud stirring in the room woke me. Yup, you guessed it. It was Mike. He'd been hit by the virus. (I'll spare you the details.)

Thankfully, Sarah and I are on the mend. So, I think we'll get through the weekend. Oh, but seriously, you don't want to come anywhere near this house. We're plagued.