The Illness

Ungh, I'm sick. I have a cough and it thoroughly blows. It's the kind of cough that wracks your whole body and makes you ache and cry and want to curl up in a little ball, and, possibly, die. I've had it for five days now. This weekend was a glorious weekend, and guess who was responsible and stayed indoors for most of it? Yeah. Me.

Sunday after missing church because, let's be honest, I had no business being near people, I was whining in Bill's direction. I told him I was bored and he should grab a movie and food and come over to my place. Lazy boy that he is he turned it on me: if I went over there, he would feed me.

Reluctantly (ok, not so reluctantly, I was bored to tears), I put myself together and headed over. When I got there he asked what I wanted, and then (when I told him), he informed me that I got to cook it. What?! How is this feeding me?

I cooked dinner while he prepped some meat. Then I ate dinner while he cooked his meat. Then I cooked more meat while he ate the food I prepared.

At one point I had a glass of orange juice. He grabbed it and took a drink. As he was putting it down he said, "Oh! That was yours, wasn't it?" Yeah, when he gets sick he'll have just himself to blame.