What passes for quiet in our house, between the snoring of dogs and humans in blissful sleep, the rattle of wheels for the small rodents, and the constant re-arranging of things for the larger one, the ticking of the clock in the living room, and the occasional BANG from the Norfolk-Southern freight trains down the hill was ripped to shreds at 2:22 a.m.
While I lay in my hammock, a beagle snoozing between my knees, me dreaming of dancing naked with sea nymphs or something...I don't remember most dreams, at least good ones... no, while everything was audibly fine and dandy, my youngest daughter was in the hall bathroom.
The unmistakable, echoing sound of regurgitation in a toilet, with all it's attendant misery blasted the sea nymphs out of my head. My swinging legs disrupted the snoring beagle as I sallied forth to "do the daddy thing."
Poor baby. My little one. She had been complaining her stomach hurt yesterday, but then she felt better. This one is wretched when she is sick. Once she gets sick, that is. She can dance and sing right up to the point of collapse, then --W H A M-- she is done for. No moaning or warning. One minute fine, the next misery.
Scooped up, cleaned up and deposited between mom and a dog, she snuggles in and what we call peace and quiet return.
I am back in my hammock. The beagle makes a good laptop platform. The sea nymphs may or may not return.
We shall see.