After spending two days recovering from food poisoning, I awoke yesterday morning, stubled into the kitchen and felt like one of those commercial moms who get saved by their disasterous kitchens by a miracle cleaner.
The Prince has rushed home Monday afternoon after I called mumbling something about the rabbit needing watching and me curled up on the bathroom floor. The next 36 hours remain something of a blur, but I recall hearing them go out for dinner that night, his getting her into bed (sans bath) and scrambling something for her for breakfast the next morning.
I do have one flash as I crawled into the kitchen at night for a sip of water (bad idea, FYI) of seeing dishes and food lying about -- but even at that moment, I couldn't muster the energy to be furious. That came later.
So when I really came to yesterday, with the rabbit at school and the prince at work, I saw my penance for getting sick: food, crumbs and dishes scattered about the kitchen. Clothes covered in chocolate ice cream on a shelf. Garbage in a bag -- on the floor.
When I picked the rabbit up from school, after cleaning the apartment, answering the 200+ emails blinking in my inbox, and trying not to call the Prince at work, she asked me if I was feeling better. "Much better sweetheart. "Good. That was a long sicky mama. You was sicky too long." No kidding.