I've been sick for a week now, and although I haven't succumbed to the full-blown flu it almost sucks more because I just feel vaguely shitty all of the time instead if intensely shitty for a short period. Of course, the only thing worse than being sick is having your husband ALSO fall ill so that he can't take care of you properly. Which is exactly what Jeff decided to do, presumably out of spite.
I used to be the world's worst sick person (see the second bullet point in this post from 2006), and now I am somewhat reformed. I no longer beat myself up physically, which is something, and yesterday when I stayed home I stayed in the house ALL DAY and didn't even attempt to do an exercise video. It's possible I mixed myself a whiskey-ginger ale to go with my chickarina soup dinner... but that's medicinal, right?
Anyway, Jeff is just as bad of a sick person as I am, and I'm not even talking about the times when he selfishly begs me to take him to the hospital. He wears a perpetual scowl, and when he's not being angry at his own virus he constantly needs to be petted and snuggled (that is, when he's not busy smoking his medicinal cigarettes, which I nag him mercilessly about, which only brings the return of the scowl). Normally I enjoy taking care of him, but when I too am sick all I want is to re-read my musty old Stephen King hardcovers and eat Saltines with cream cheese and pretend I am a pathetic invalid who may never walk again. Is that too much to ask?
JK, honey, I love you. I'm going to come home and just cough all over you. You're going to love it.