The past few days have been a bit of a whirlwind. I got back from my conference and kicked into high gear: you know what that is, when you frantically run around cleaning everything in sight, purchasing enough food to feed an army and alternating between extreme panic to relative calm over the fact that in just a few short days guests will be descending on your house for the first time ever. Luckily for us, my husband and I alternated those moments of panic, otherwise our household really wouldn't have been a pretty place in the days leading up to our first housewarming. The day (Saturday) dawned sunny and bright, some last minute cleaning was done (I must have been crazy to let my husband talk me into purchasing a white bath mat. That thing has been cleaned more than my counters I think!) and we were ready to go.
The housewarming was, if I do say so myself, quite a success. A nice blend of family, friends and neighbors, one extreme bocci game and tons of yummy food. All went well and my husband and I realized that we could really get into this whole party thing (especially when you have your Moms bring some of the yummy food!)
(No, I'm not making an announcement right now!) I got myself dressed and headed to my meeting, opting to skip my usual tea and the plain english muffin I had toasted. Well. I threw up three times. The first two I kept quiet about, but the third one was in front of everyone (the bathroom was occupied, it's not like I wanted to be heaving my guts out in front of a committee of my colleagues). After the third time I went home and crawled into bed where I spent a miserable day alternately sweating and feeling chilled, painfully aching in all of my joints and throwing up all over the floor (which my husband cleaned up without complaint. If ever there was any doubt about his love for me, I think that pretty much clears it up!)