Jumped into bed, and my back was greeted with a cold, viscous, vomitous substance. I immediately sat up, and then the dry heaving started as I raced to the bathroom peeling clothes as it dawned on me what happened and what I just landed in.
I’ve since showered and no longer have that metallic taste in my mouth where the saliva glands underneath my tongue pump overtime to keep me from throwing up on myself. I have no idea WTF I am going to do with the featherbed or the down comforter, but right now I am content to let them lie in the back yard where I threw them.
There are two options here- I pissed Rosie off and this was her vengeance, or there is something wrong with the lovely and beautiful Lily. I will sort it out in the am.
My new mantra as I go to sleep is “I love my doggies, I love my doggies, I love my doggies…”