By Leslie Lindsay There is something about barf that makes me well…want to barf myself.  I know this is a totally inappropriate comment and completely gross, but it’s just a fact of life. As I lay slumbering away in my darkened room, I hear my oldest daughter come into my room, “Mom, I am sorry to wake you.  But I just had to tell you that Sally threw up.  In my room.  It’s so gross, mom.”  I sighed and rolled over, wiping the crud from my eyes and looking at the alarm clock.  5:00 a.m.  on-the-dot.  Which meant is was really earlier than that as my hubby likes to set the clock a few minutes ahead of time.  (not my preferred idea of being on time). I told my sweet daughter that I understand it’s gross that the dog threw up in her room, but I wasn’t about to start my day by scrubbing dog barf out of the carpet.  No thanks.  “Can this wait till morning?” “It is morning,” chirpped my early bird.  She had hauled …