Monday, July 27, 2009

Stop the World. My Husband has a cold.

At least that's what he thinks is going to happen.

Every time the hub gets a sniffle, it's the same thing. He's the only one who ever had whatever it is he has or thinks he has, he's never going to fee well again and the world is going to stop turning. (Which would be very bad because we'd lose gravity and all fly up into the air at the same time).

The martyr in him also suddenly comes out.

Him (Hand on head, coughing for effect)- Don't worry about me. I'll just get some soup.
Me - Fine ( know where this is going, but I'll play along)
Him - (Taking one small step toward the stove) By the way where is the soup?
Me- In the pantry.
Him- (Now standing motionless and looking left and right) And where is the pantry?

Does it sound familiar to anyone?

Next he plants his germ infested body in the living room and struggles with the remote, because even if men are taking their last breath, they must be watching TV while doing it. Picture of charm, he is in his pj bottoms with a box of tissues on his chest and a garbage pail next to his chair so he can dispose of anything he feels will not advance him to a total miracle cure. He is now reclining, motionless, eyes closed. But even as I try to take the remote and change the channel, he says "I was watching that." Okay, I understand now. He has x-ray vision and can see right through his eyelids.

Then it's honey, get me a blanket. Done. Honey, can I have a pillow. Done. Honey, can I have some juice. Done. All this while I'm dusting, doing laundry, taking all the phone calls, cleaning up the dinner he asked for the day before and now can't possibly eat and trying desperately to write at least 3 pages in between royal summons.

After a few hours of noises coming from him that belong in a Stephen King movie trailer, I ask him if he wants to a few more cold tablets to help him feel better. It goes something like this.

Me - Honey, maybe it's time to take a few more cold pills.
Him - I didn't take anything yet.
Me - but you came home from work 6 hours ago.
Him - I was afraid it would put me to sleep.

PUT HIM TO SLEEP!!!! Wasn't that what we're supposed to do when we get sick? Hydrate, rest and sleep??

Deep breath. It could be worse. A cold is only going to last three days.

I'll be at the Holiday Inn until then.


  1. Three days coming, three days with you, three days going...that's what Mrs. Ord used to tell us.

  2. Cold huh, my husband makes a big deal outta a mosquito bite. Honest! He is such a big boob. Thank goodness he won't see this. But honest he's the worst.

  3. OMG, Kathye, they're all alike! Mine takes his temperature every 15-30 minutes and walks around telling me he's dying!

    Joanna Aislinn
    The Wild Rose Press January 15, 2010