It’s Like a Horde of Slugs Exploded in Here
Two out of three children are sick with colds in this house. This means one thing, and one important thing only: that I will need to wash and disinfect our entire home, with special attention paid to the following.
- throw pillows
- arms of couches
- two tablecloths
- shoulders of my t-shirts
- hems of my t-shirts
- my pants
- the quilt on Quinn’s bed
- Quinn’s shirt sleeves
- every single item of clothing Cian has worn in the last 72 hours
- the handtowels, bath towels, and possibly a rug in the bathroom
- Saoirse’s pet blanket (she is not sick)
- my hair
- the dog
I will refrain from grossing you out with the reason for my recent mass purchases of Lysol and bleach. You’ll see all the open boxes of tissues, strategically placed at preschooler-high level, all untouched, and come to your own conclusions, if you dare.
So. If you’ll excuse me, it appears I have to go wring out the cat. Cian decided to give her fur a face-first hug, and well, you know what that means. She’s so shiny now.