Mr. Noro Virus just ran through my house. I am not certain how he got in. I surmise he snuck in hiding inside my daughter's backpack, but I may never really know. This dirty, dirty man forced me to make some pretty urgent decisions that I hope you never have to make. One should never be in this situation, when your body needs to do two necessary actions at the same time, what do you choose? The outcome of either decision is catastrophic. Kind of like playing Russian roulette with all the chambers full of bullets, it's never good. Presently, I am just a shelf a person. Mr. Noro Virus had his way with me. I deeply regret this relationship. Unfortunately, saying NO was not an option, and I feel a bit used and abused from the inside out. Our relationship was pretty abusive looking back. He told me what to do and when, over and over. Typically, I like being ordered around, but what he wanted me to do was just disgusting. He had this "thing" with the bathroom, and held me in there for hours. One might accuse Mr. Noro Virus of having a toilet fetish. His stamina was something I have never experienced, what we did in there was so rigorous it made me feel weak and several pounds lighter. I might never be the same. As I venture back into the bathroom to survey the aftermath, I am not sure what to do next. I can't decide if I should go out and by a hazmat suitworthy of fending off Ebola, buy more bleach, or just torch my house and rebuild?