The Other Shoe

Jeremy was up puking all night long, and is still doing it, having trouble keeping anything at all down. Around 2 this morning, I awoke to all the lights on in the house and the sound of someone retching. I thought Richard had a relapse because of the buffalo spaghetti sauce I made last night. It was actually very good, rich and dense, with nice imported pasta of a complex twisted shape. But Richard was just barely recovered from his flu, so I wouldn't have been surprised. It wasn't him though; it was Jeremy, and he had not made it to the bathroom. He got sick partly in the cat litter box. That was relatively easy to clean up. The carpet was not so easy though. Richard and Iwere up for hours with paper towels and regular ones, doing laundry and taking out trash.
I was going to visit a friend at the rehab where he is staying since he injured his spine skiing and is partially paralyzed, but he doesn't need the flu also, so I'm not going this weekend. I hope I do not catch this.
We went to see Frost/Nixon. The odd thing is that I have never seen those interviews, though of course I know what transpired in them. What struck me was not that historical situation but how it spoke to the one of Bush and Cheney, whose actions were far more serious than anything Nixon thought about doing. No one is going to try to interview Bush though. He is about as self-aware as a snail, so there would not be any revelations, I am sure. He still can't see what all the fuss is about. Bush makes Nixon look like a saint, and I never thought I would entertain that idea about Nixon.