Warning: This post contains material that is downright disgusting. Read at your own risk, bitches.
I woke up the other night to the sound of splattering. I held my breath, hoping it would all just go away. Silly me. I knew the sound. It was the sound of vomit hitting a wood floor.
Being the Real Man that I am, I rolled out of bed and walked across the hall into my son's room.
He greeted me by vomiting near my feet.
He vomited on his blankets. The mattress. The floor. The toys on the floor (Legos). Everywhere.
I took him to the bathroom to clean up. I got him a drink. I changed...everything. I soaked and rinsed those damn Legos. I thought about banging my head on the floor.
The next night I heard my oldest son, Luke, making some absurd noise. I was still hanging on to Real Man status (barely), so I went to check on him. He, like my younger son, greeted me with vomit. He's a little better aim with his chunks, but still.
The next night my daughter banged the hell out of our bedroom door. I jolted awake. "I don't feel good," she said. She was sick. She vomited.
I've lost a lot of sleep over the last couple of nights. I feel like crap. But, I have a reading goal, so I've still been getting up at 5 a.m. to read. I've been reading a little slower and I may have skimmed a page or two, but I wasn't going to start the year off falling behind on my goal.
It's been torture.
Look, if I'm that tired, your book better be freakin' amazing. The one I was reading wasn't. Not for me. I MADE myself finish it. I always feel like I owe it to the author.
Today, you guessed it, I became sick. The last one in this house to fall.
I've had to stay in bed all day. Boring. I couldn't fall back asleep and my stomach felt like I was about to give birth to triplets. I wasn't vomiting though people...
Let's just say I have an idea of what it feels like when a pregnant women's water breaks.
Why tell you all this? Because I know every one of you has been there. You know how crappy (ha ha) it feels.
I decided to start my new book to help me get my mind off the fire breathing dragon living in my ass.
Uglies, by Scott Westerfeld.
Now THAT'S what I'm talking about. Look, regardless of how I'm feeling, I've been able to stay completely locked into this story. I'm tired, sick, hungry, delusional. But, I just HAVE to keep reading.
THIS is how I judge a book. I have no idea what he's doing and not doing with the writing. I could care less. I just know I want to find out what happens on the next page.
Well done, Scott. You're a Real Man.