Oozy Ooozing

Grocery shopping with a toddler is a challenge. Having a bout of IBS while grocery shopping with a toddler is like an Olympic event. While in the stall of a public restroom with other occupants I had to read “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” to Noah – while desperately coaxing him to stay in the stall with me rather than sliding under the door or worse yet into the accompanying stall. Amazingly we survived. But then while moving things around trying to locate a package of chicken breasts that didn’t look too yellow I was splashed in the face with raw chicken juice. I feel ill just thinking about it. I’m very thankful for the baby wipes I had with me. Despite being able to scrub off immediately I swear I could smell the faint odor of salmonella on my black hoodie while completing our shopping. It’s definitely going in the wash tonight. Yick.

I just put Noah down for a nap. When I went upstairs I was disappointed to see that there was a water bubble the size of my fist in the wall behind our bed. We just spent a couple hundred dollars getting a patch put on our roof to deal with that leak. Obviously, it didn't work. Mark is going to be very unhappy. Very. Since we've had that leak he's been really anxious about our house being waterlogged and growing lethal mold. I know he had problems sleeping this morning because he was worried about the storm causing more damage to the house, but he went to work pleased that the leak hadn't recurred. I DREAD telling him. He's gonna be sad.

That’s all for now. I’m working on completing my 20 things about my teen years list. It’s becoming insanely long. Every “thing” is a huge story.