When I'm sick with the stomach stuff, there's one absolute everyone here in Jenworld can count on: I will scrub the hell out of my house afterward.
I can spend a solid twelve hours communing with the throne in the master bathroom, absolutely retching my guts inside out, and I can guaran-damn-tee that on the thirteenth hour I will rise like Lazarus from the dead and head for my cleaning supplies. I might still be trembling and weak, but by Xenu I will spend hours scrubbing the confines of Jenworld as if it had formerly been a group home for lepers.
When I'm done, everything will be sanitized within an inch of its life and ready for the next sick person. Because if I fell victim to a stomach bug, then it must be a super germ, and clearly the rest of my family will fall like dominoes, one right after the other.
And I have to say that there is some small comfort in knowing that the toilets I'm depositing my intestinal contents into are clean. One would think that Pete -- the most germ-phobic person I've ever been married to -- would prefer to be sick into a clean toilet, but he's oddly not that particular about that sort of thing. I also like to extend the same courtesy of cleanliness to my children. Not that they'd care; I've trained the girls to vomit into small trash cans and large plastic cups, without spilling a drop. Yes, they are that good.
Luckily, the stomach bug I had on Wednesday didn't involve vomiting. However, I did feel crappish (like that word?) for almost a solid 24 hours, and I have to assume that I managed to share the germy love with my family at some point, which means that someone here in Jenworld is about to get sick.
And I'm ready.