There are few sensations weirder than waking up in the middle of your stomach attempting to heave its contents outward. I made a face, swallowed, and reprimanded it sternly, but I still feel sick. Sniffly, too. I think ramaxela somehow infected me through the internet. [insert 'virus' joke here]
Figures, this would happen the day my mom and Emma come into town. Urgh.
Hopefully it will be gone by later today.
My mother, either in an attempt to make sure he really exists or perhaps in hopes that maybe I've finally made a friend who isn't some sort of freak*, has invited David to dinner with us. I can only thank God that he will not be exposed to Gabriel because I think that might make him cry, or at least hide until he's thirty. My brother has that effect on people. We're debating selling him to the US Government, for use in international negotiations. Put him in a room with whatever nation's leader you need to deal with, wait fifteen minutes, and they will do whatever you say, just to make him stop staring like that.
*And oh, how disappointed she will be on this one... *cough* I mean, I love you all.
I so need to get a real chair sometime. I've got this green plastic lawn chair thingy, and it's constantly poking me. Ow. Damn you, chair!