Both Matt and I are sick, which means that the level of whining in our house has gone up by a trillion-fold. I would like to point out that in this case, the majority of whining is being done by the person who is NOT me, because when a member of the male species is sick that means that the world should stop turning, and little fairies should come from the sky to cater to the man’s every whim. Because, you know, he doesn’t feel good.
I will say in his defense that he has taken care of me many, many times when I have been sick – usually when I have been laying on the bathroom floor in between sessions of violent vomiting. He has gone to the store three different times to try to find something that I can keep down, he has forced me to drink or eat even when we both know that whatever is going down is going to come back up in a few minutes, and even though I have never let him actually witness what happens when my stomach decides to mutiny, I know without a shadow of a doubt that he would hold my hair back if I asked.
This, however, does not excuse his behavior last night, when literally every part of my body hurt, including my eyeballs and my fingernails, and I had a temperature of 102, and I couldn’t sleep, and finally I sat up and stated that I would surely strangle him in his sleep if he didn’t MOVE THE HELL OVER. Because I firmly believe that in a serious relationship, what’s mine is ours, but there are limits to that, including my very own side of the bed. Keep off.
If I can circle back to the previous topic of violent vomiting, can I just say how excited I am to report that it has been over a month since my last migraine? I can honestly say that I feel like a new person. It’s true that sometimes you don’t realize exactly how bad something has been until you are on the other side, and I didn’t know how miserable I had been until I, well, until I wasn’t anymore. So that’s really exciting news.
In not so exciting news, I am here at work today despite feeling pretty amazingly shitty. Yes, I am one of those people who comes to work when I’m sick. I figure since everyone else does, I can basically guarantee that one of my co-workers blessed me with this snot-fest, so it’s only reasonable that I get to pay it forward. I’m thinking of a particularly annoying jerk who I happen to have a meeting with later. I will be mentally sending my germs directly at him as we sit across a conference room table from each other. Take that.