Cough. Sneeze. Blow my nose. Cough. Sneeze. Blow my nose.
Try and watch Pride & Prejudice without coughing through the part where Darcy comes walking towards Lizzy at sunrise and professes his love, yet again.
Cough. Sneeze. Blow my nose.
Drink some tea without sneezing in the cup.
If you’ve noticed that I’ve been a tad absent the last few days, it is because of that darn-sore-throat-that-started-three-weeks-ago-and-then-slightly-got-better-but-turned-into-a-horrible-cold-that-slightly-got-better-but-turned-into-the-horrible-flu. And all I can say is
THANK GOODNESS FOR PAUL.
That man has seen me at my absolute worst many, many, many times, and he has never failed to live up to his vows. Even though I’ve been wearing the same pajamas (which are, oddly enough, his) for the past four days, and even though my hair looks like I just got out of a convertible going 200 mph, and even though I have gigantic wads of tissue stuck up my nose so I don’t drip everywhere, and even though I complain more than usual when I’m sick, and even though I woke him up in the middle of the night because I was kneeling over the tub and I needed a cold rag on my forehead, Paul has been there without so much as a hint of complaint, serving me like the wonderful husband he is.
When I would get sick when I was little and even when I was older still living with my parents, the worst sickness in the world didn’t seem as bad when my mom or dad was home with me, sitting on the couch, rubbing my head. And now that I’m older, moved away and married, I feel the same when Paul enters the room. Last night after waking him up in the middle of the night, I tried to sleep but couldn’t. So I put in a movie. Apparently he couldn’t sleep either. I had been halfway sitting up on the couch (it makes coughing a tad easier) when I heard him open the door and come out to the living room. He joined me on the couch, our faces at opposite ends (less coughing by his face means the less likely he’ll get sick, right?) while Rusty cuddled on top of my chest. And that horrible darn-sore-throat-that-started-three-weeks-ago-and-then-slightly-got-better-but-turned-into-a-horrible-cold-that-slightly-got-better-but-turned-into-the-horrible-flu didn’t seem so bad anymore.
Thank goodness for Paul. :)