I have a lot of lady friends with whom I like to joke about our husbands and how pitiful they get when they’re sick. If you have a man in your life, you know precisely what I’m talking about. Very little can stop a man dead in his tracks faster than a cold or tears.
Confession time: I totally get man-colds all the time. If I am sick – any type – I’ma need a mom who will set me up on the couch with a TV tray, a small garbage can, a box of tissues, and a never-ending rotation of juice, water, medicine, and chicken noodle soup.
Things like this are hard to come by when you don’t live in the same state as your mom.
So he gross Utah air made me feel gross for awhile there. I could feel a lump of inversion air sitting far too comfortably in my trachea but otherwise felt fine. No sore throat, no congestion, no headache or sore face bones (hey – that’s a thing, you guys). I went through a painfully awful period of a couple days in which I lost my voice (devastating), but I figured that too would pass and I’d be fine by the weekend.
But then I woke up Friday morning, and there was no question about it – I was getting sick. Like a cold. And I had all the lousy symptoms and a general feeling of pitifulness. I couldn’t function. I couldn’t do anything. All I could do was lay in bed and feel really sorry for myself and hope I infected Husband so I could walk around for a few days telling him he was fine and to get over it.
Lots of love fostering happening in our house.
Yesterday I died, so that was a total bummer, but I’m doing a lot better now and even had the energy to clean the shower and our toilets and do a load of laundry to eliminate all the nasty germs in our bedding. And then, for good measure, I broke my pinkie toe.
Because why not.
There’s a little debate as to whose fault it is: Husband’s for pinching my foot even after I said stop or mine for jerkin my foot back, lighting fast, into the coffee table, resulting in an incredible inability to move any portion of my left leg/foot without searing pain. Also the bones are jutting out in ways they simply are not on the other foot. Not through skin or anything. That’s gross.
So to celebrate Human Rights day, I’m going to continue laying around, eating equal parts bread and cheese, until there’s no way to avoid going outside and interacting with other humans. Which is usually my favorite.
I know, I know. It doesn’t look broken. But it is you guys. It is.