On the way in to work today, I saw a woman being sick at the side of the road. The side of the highway, actually, on Lakeshore, just before the entrance to the Gardiner. Poor thing. Her car was pulled up on the grass bank, and she was on her knees, with her friend helping her, and of course everyone was slowing down to look. Who knows what the story was, but it could have been me. I am prone to car sickness. Always have been, always will be. I have yakked my way around the globe. Never ask me what’s up, Chuck. I am a veritable Elizabeth Hurley.
It helps when I drive, but not always. I still get nauseous at night on country roads, no matter what. I also suffer from seasickness and altitude sickness, which is why I avoid the high seas. Of course I also had morning sickness, particularly when I had Ronan. I remember taking the TTC to work one day and having to get off suddenly to throw up in a garbage can. It happened to be the Rosedale stop. I didn’t look pregnant, so of course I must have appeared drunk. Oh well. Suck it, rich people.
Interestingly, Ronan inherited my queasiness, at least when he was a little guy. The worst incident ever took place on the way back from the cottage, shortly after he ate a turquoise bubble gum flavoured ice cream, and failed to notify me, or get the window open in time. I can’t begin to describe the carnage, nor do you want me to. Let me just say it cost me a fortune to have the car shampooed, and even then. It was at the end of its lease, so if you are driving a 10 year old Acura MDX base model that still smells of puke and bubble gum on rainy days, well, sorry about that.