And then on Sunday night, Dave caught the virus that Trevor had. His blood sugar dropped down to near-comatose levels and he ended up drinking the sugar syrup that I had made for lemonade and crunching lollipops to get the number over 40 before he passed out. Fun.

Later that morning (4am) he was just as sick as Trevor had been in the park. More fun. You wish you could pretend you didn't hear the horrid sounds coming from the bathroom and just go back to sleep, but you're the spouse, married for good and bad (and horribly digusting) and you *have* to go help.

The Liloias would like a "do-over" on our holiday weekend, please.