Now Playing -
The Huz talking back to the Jets game on tv
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Now Tweeting
- Melanie
As I mentioned here, I now have the huz's cold. Except said cold moved much faster with me than it did with him, and within one day managed to blossom into a full-blown sinus infection.
My head is going to explode.
And he's gonna have to clean it up.
I feel badly about that part, 'deed I do, but hey, I'm gonna be the one without a head!!!!
He does spend quite a bit of time picking up after me. He knew what he was getting into when he married me. Since I have the "day job," i.e. the standard 9-to-5, 40-hours-a-week deal, I'm up early and destroying the house before he's anywhere close to leaving REM sleep. So he wakes up and begins what I presume is his morning ritual of closing drawers, hanging up towels and putting away cereal boxes and shoes and things. And does it well. He's very orderly. Sometimes a little too orderly. Then The Boy Who Moves My StuffTM takes over, and I have a panic attack because it's five minutes before I have to leave the house in order to get to the theater on time, and where's-my-makeup-case-it-was-right-there-the-last-time-I-looked-and- where-are-my-tan-T-strap-character-shoes-and-what-happened-to-that- pair-of-false-eyelashes-I-had-on-my-dressing-table? A lot of times I will leave something out in a particular place because I need to see it to remind myself that I need to do something with it. And suddenly it is not there. And I have to put myself in my husband's head and figure out the most likely place it has traveled to. It's not easy. But then again, he has to put up with the mountains of clutter I generate on a daily basis. It's all about the compromise, folks.
But I digress from my exploding head. In that entry I linked to above (all of a big two days ago), I kind of hintimated that Huz was being a big baby about his cold. Well, yeah, he sort of was. But along with the exponential increase in severity of my symptoms compared to his, has come an exponential increase in misery. I feel gawdawful. I could barely sing for the show last night. (Not that it mattered, since they were barely listening to us anyway, and we got sent home after our second set.) Can't breathe. Coughing. Body aches. Can't breathe + too much cold medication = can't sleep. Exhausted. Huz is making sure I drink and take my medicines, and told me when I got up that if I was up for a little while it might tire me out enough to nap. And he scratched my back and rubbed my shoulders. Purrrrrr.
I'm going to wallow in my misery on our big comfy couch, and drown my sorrows in OJ and a spate of catalog purging.
*sniffle*
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