Everyday Lunasea

G told me over the phone that he'd found this great chair at St. Vincent de Paul's thrift shop. He said it was sort of an academic chair, like professors use. It has some sort of Latin crest on the back. He's offering it to me to use at my computer, but he really wants it in our waiting room when we have our own offices. I don't think we've decided on the decor of the future waiting room, but apparently Dead Poet's Society is our inspiration.

My voice has gone from lifelong-smoker-sexy to barely a squeak, and A. threw up in the grocery store much to the consternation of the lady handing out free samples (he threw up right after trying one of her free pieces of roast beef - then looked up and said, "More?" Didn't phase him a bit but he made some of the other shoppers gag). G was feeling left out so he's sick too. We had to wash A's sheets because he threw up last night, and so he was napping with us today in our bed, which reminded me why we don't co-sleep. A. seems to think that the only comfortable spot in the bed is the one which I occupy. At one point he had his head on my neck and his feet on G's chest. That's not going to go over so well with your future wife, darlin'. 'Course, I put up with G's nocturnal chats, so I guess love conquers all.