So I know I told you a few months back that I was not trying to poison my husband. I thought, then, you might want to know that last night I did sort of poison my husband, but only accidentally.
While making him dinner, I noticed our microwave was on the fritz. (He had told me a couple nights prior that it would turn on when the door was open, but of course I immediately figured he was doing something wrong. My first thought when it happened to me? Oh, we need a new microwave.) Anyway, despite this phenomenon, I continued to use the machine. (I later learned that the internet says this problem is just a failure of the door switch and it's really just the light and fan that stay on, not the actual microwaves - unless, of course, you feel intense heat. But I can't say I knew that at the time...)
What I found more disturbing was the noxious smell of melting plastic. I figured it pretty much had be coming from the microwave (as the real oven had no plastic in it, on it, or around it), but I couldn't see anything melting. I didn't think for even a moment that the noxious fumes might be settling into Erik's dinner. He tasted them later, the noxious fumes, and abandoned his meal for bed. Still, the damage was done.
It was little surprise to either of us when he ended up projectile vomiting at 3 am.
So today we bought a new microwave.
I will say, however, that Erik blows chunks a lot. I don't know if it is a sensitive constitution and he refuses to consider it might be an ulcer. Still, he's all superstitious about certain foods (like apple juice, spaghetti, and enchiladas) that seem to most commonly inspire his emesis. His gastric dysfunction is most likely a function of his odd schedule - eating large meals before going to bed - but still, it's worrisome. At least when I barf, it's because I am stinking drunk. Not pretty, and again, not proud. But at least it makes sense.
Interestingly, this week's local weekly tabloid featured an article on men with eating disorders titled "Manorexia." I told him I think he has Boylimia.
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2 comments:
I'm with Eric all the way about spaghetti. I happen to love the stuff. However, one time I got so sick from it that I had spaghetti noodles coming out of my nose. It's not hard to be grossed out when your head is stuck inside the toilet bowl - the very idea is pretty gross. I think we can all agree, though, that snotty, wormy pasta coming from one's nose when one is bent over the commode is gross to the nth degree. I have never thrown up spaghetti since, but I always wonder if I take a second helping if it will revisit me again later in the night. Needless to say, I usually pass!
I know you are probably thinking, "Thanks, Mary, for sharing!" me
Indeed, I am absolutely thrilled that you decided to share such a story. Spaghetti through the nose is most impressive.
And I agree that leaning over the toilet is needlessly distressing. So much so, that I someday hope to patent my invention - the Vomitron 3000 - which is basically a sink that functions like a toilet. Regular barfers will never again have to bow down and pray to the porcelain god. I have imagined marketing it to bar owners and boylimics, but I have seen on TV that the real life bulimics have already gotten creative with their disposal methods. Many of them, apparently, barf into sinks with garbage disposals or into plastic bags in private.
I know, now you're thinking, "Thanks, Jen, for sharing!"
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