Driving home from my parent's house tonight, we were all coughing. Myself, and all three kids. The wipers were on, and they squeak. Rowan was coughing the most regularly, punctuated by the rest of us in various dry tones. I kept waiting for the coughs to clear up into a distinct rhythm, to organize themselves with the wiper blades into a funky song, like a commercial I must have seen sometime or an episode of Glee.
There has been a nasty stomach virus ravaging our family this week, and I think my imagination may have simply come unhinged. No sketch tonight, I'm skipping out. Goodnight!
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