Sickness and Tornados and Spaghetti

Randy called me at work today waving the white flag. He was sick. He could not handle the children alone. I had to come home.
As I was leaving the office, to go pick Super Z up from school, I heard the news that a tornado had touched down in Brandon (The lovely town I call home.) There didn't seem to be too much damage. There were a few trees down and electricity and traffic lights were off in town.
After picking up Super Z and answering 8 million questions about tornados (no, they aren't green and no they don't have legs and yes, they can blow away bicycles) I headed to the CVS for medicine. If you want an adventure try shopping for medicine in a CVS with no electricity with a very loud and curious 5 year old.
"HEY MAN! WHY IS IT DARK IN HERE????!!!!! DID YOU PAY YOUR POWER BILL????"
"HEY GIRL! DID YOU KNOW THAT TORNADOS DON’T HAVE LEGS???"
"HEY! MY MOM PICKED ME UP BECAUSE MY DAD IS THROWED UP!!"
After teaching the cashier how to total up my purchase using a calculator (gasp) and finding the correct sequence of unblocked roads, we made our way home. Medicine was administered and I went back to working. It was a perfectly peaceful day. Except for the tornado...and Randy's death throws...and that Valentine box that I just finished making. (What kind of torture is that? Aren't they supposed to make those things at school? I am so uncrafty.)
Did I mention that I made spaghetti for supper? Apparently I don't hate it anymore. My relationship with spaghetti is more unstable than my relationship with my Mother. What is up with that? Is it normal to hate a food for years, love it suddenly, hate it again, and then love it again? Does that happen to anyone else?