Had one of those curled-up-in-a-tiny-ball-crying and moaning-barely-able-over-the-blender-gone-haywire-sounds-of-your-stomach episodes last night. Rawrg. The whole mess seemed rather unprovoked and entirely inhumane. A wonton attack on the innards. Although wif did attend a family clambake that evening she did not even partake in the cockle-consumption. Rather she inhaled dined on ranch doritos and boxed fine red wine. Nothing out of the ordinary or even sort of deserving of the great suffering to come.
[Wif was like 102,327 times more classy than this when drinking her fancy beverage out of a plastic cup.
Saturday, September 12th:
12:32am. - Convulsions begins. Spleen attempts to climb through liver and out of wif's body.
1:04am. - Hubby arrives home. Finds wif curled up on the living room floor pounding fists.
1:22am. - Hubby carries whiny and tummy-gurgling wif up to bed where her small intestine joins the spleen in it's violent getaway attempts.
1:50am - Wif uncurls and crawls to the bathroom and finally her guts forcibly politely excuse themselves.
2:03am - Wif feels quite pleasant and relieved. Disgusted, but very content indeed. Ahhhh the sweet slumber of the healthy.
Now if only wif could figure out what in the world caused the rioting on the part of her innards... any hypotheses???
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