Poor, Poor Joey

What a day. It's is most definitely Monday.

I woke up at 5 and with the feeling that something wasn't right. It wasn't. First of all, I was awake at 5:00 and should have been sleeping, but second of all, only Bear and I were in my room. I thought, Hmm...I wonder what happened to Joey. I'll go try to find him and hopefully I won't scare him really bad like I did last time.

Last time I scared about 7 years off his life. I know now that it's a really bad idea to stand quietly directly outside the bathroom door, in the dark, at 3:45 in the morning "waiting my turn". It really scares Joey when he opens the door and sees a fuzzy something-or-other standing there.

But I digress.

This time I figured he was in the bathroom, so I stood off to the side over kinda by the kitchen so I couldn't be blamed for scaring another decade off his life.

I heard mysterious noises. It sounded like....teeth brushing. Oh no! I thought, That can only mean one thing.

Sure enough, the barf bug bit Joey sometime after 1am. Poor thing.

So I reset my alarm for 7, but wound up not sleeping for the next hour and a half. I felt too sorry for poor Joey, who had, by this time, worn a path in the carpet. So I grabbed a hoodie (with the hood most definitely up, to cover my bedhead) and headed off to HyVee.

I've never been to the grocery store before 7am, and I really don't care to do it again any time soon. Strange people in bright blue shirts are overly helpful and wind up coming across as overbearing and disturbing. I didn't care for the experience.

I was glad that I had a late meeting in Des Moines this morning, which got out early, so I could come back and check on poor Joey on the way up to work. Now I'm off in 8 minutes, so I should really stop writing.

I think Joey got the flu from our birds who, of course, have Bird Flu.