It’s strange to be reminded that there was, once, a time when you had no real conception of what it was to throw up. (Frankly, I wouldn’t be so sad if that were still true….)
I know that BA has some theoretical context—he’s seen the damn dog puke up so many pairs of socks in his three years, how could he not?—but the look of sheer horror on his face yesterday when that became practical experience was so utterly pathetic. He just sort of sat there, looking at me like, “are you kidding me?” Oh, man.
In other news, he seems to be feeling better now.