For three weeks our home has been visited.  It's an evening visitor that none of us want here.  It arrives just around 9 pm and shows up all night long.  It's a stomach virus.  Everyone else in the family has fallen victim to it.  There have been sickly assaults on our carpets.  I've done an obnoxious amount of laundry.  And through it all the thing I have come away with is that the next time we build a house there will be bathrooms located in the far reaches of the house since the kids are obviously having a hard time making it to a trash can, tile, or toilet.  Also I will not go for the nearly white carpet.  No.  Next time I'm getting a dark carpet - I don't care if it "closes the room in".

Husband and kids are down for the count.  They are medicated and put in beds snuggling trash cans and lying on top of the only sheets I haven't had to throw away - yet.  I'm cleaning the house.  Yes.  I'm dusting, vacuuming, mopping, scouring, laundering.  Mostly because I'm trying to stay so busy the virus can't get to me - like if I move around enough, if I stay active it won't attach itself.  And partially because I figure once I do get sick it would be nice to know the house is clean - dusted, mopped, folded and packed up, and no dirty dishes or dirty oven.  There might be some ray of happiness to be found if I get sick and I know my refrigerator and pantry are neat, clean, and tidy. 

Mostly though, I'm multi-tasking while on hands and knees cleaning the baseboards.  As long as I'm on hands and knees praying that I don't get sick like the rest of them, I might as well have clean baseboards too.