Dang it. There are four 2 liter bottles of Ginger ale in my kitchen. You'd think we were prepared for the stomach flu apocalypse. Who knows? Maybe we are. They're sitting next to the cans of chicken noodle soup and the box of saltines.
It's Maybelline this time. She does sick worse than all of us. This virus has escalated with each instance, making me kinda glad I was first. Mild. But horrified for the kids.
If you don't hear from me for a week, send in the national guard. I was going to say coast guard, but Tulsa's a little ways from the ocean. Make sure whomever you send brings Pepto, will ya?
Until I write again ...