I am sick. There, I said it. I said I wouldn’t, but I did. All last week as my husband lay prone with this cold, I told him, basically, “snap out of it.” I asked him why when he is sick he gets so debilitatingly sick (“I shouldn’t be in the kitchen, let alone preparing food,” he says, as if preparing food is something he does often) and yet, when I am sick, I not only prepare the food, I clean up after us all. Regardless. That’s a whole ‘nother rant.
This rant started with him saying “Oh, I’m going to get sick. I can’t get sick!” and me saying, while smacking his arm with true concern, “stop it.” I think he talks himself into being sick and then, lo and behold, he is. (Though, I must admit that his being ill was quite convenient for me, as the school nurse called to report a child with a fever and he was all too willing to come home and stay home with her the following day.)
So, all weekend, as the tickle in the back of my throat turned into a relentless cough, I announced: I’m not sick. Even today, I tried to fight it. But then, after having a crown put on a tooth (while coughing, not an easy feat), I called my boss and said, defeated, “I’m sick.”
And I came home and slept. Despite the two and sometimes three men in the basement sawing, hammering and screwing (I’m sick, so don’t go there–you know what I mean), right under my bedroom, I slept. It was like I was in the hospital on morphine (though not nearly THAT fun). I was sleeping, but I could hear every bit of the noise. I just didn’t care, and slept away–dreaming that I couldn’t wake up enough to meet my daughter. When I did get up and found that it was 2:00, I was thrilled to see I could sleep for one more hour. Ah, but the magic was gone and my stomach was growling, and the cough that had left me long enough to sleep, came back.
It seems that our house is perpetually sick, doesn’t it? Mumps that aren’t mumps; fevers; colds; coughs. I blame: the orthodontist (my theory is that something got nicked and then infected, hence the mump-like illness); and the freakin’ weather. One day its 80, the next the daffodils are bent over in snow. Of course we are all sick! (Oh, two kids report runny noses, as well all the other stuff mentioned above.)
Peh, I say to all of it. Peh, peh, peh. I was sick; a little nap was all I needed. And some tea. And these slippers. And the glass of orange juice my teen-in-training daughter offered to bring me (we love each other again, yay!). And maybe another nap once everyone is gathered from hither lesson and yon practice. And some more tea.
It is, afterall, just a cold and a cough. This I can handle–while making dinner, et. al.
And then there’s this: that nap today? Deliriously, wickedly good (even with those men downstairs screwing [must I remind you they were screwing things to other things, you delightfully, despicably, wicked readers!]).