A Glass. OF SPIT! WTF?

*My deep apologies for the light postings this week but my husband has leprosy. Or maybe it’s toxic shock syndrome. Gout? I don’t know. The point is he is leaking from every mucous membrane and yelping as if I have accidentally stepped on his tail. Keep in mind he does not actually have a tail but if he did it would be stuck deep between his legs and quivering a feverish little shake, a lap dog nervously piddling on the carpet when the doorbell rings. Sick men are the most pathetic creatures known to (wo)man.


Yesterday I tried to quarantine him to the couch. I gave him some fluffy pillows, a roll of Charmin, a glass of water and the remote. But when I got home from work it was apparent that he had escaped. Wads of toilet paper littered our bed. A trail of toast crumbs speckled the keyboard. There was a glass of spit on our bedside table. A glass. OF SPIT. I reminded him it was trash night and that he needed to take the cans down to the curb but he said he was too sick. Then not two minutes later he asked if I wanted to do it. I eyed the thin thread of spittle that stretched from his mouth down to his chin as he said it and politely declined the invitation.

Later that night he complained that I was being mean to him. This after I had made him chicken soup, cleaned up the kitchen, dosed him up with Tylenol PM, tucked him in and lit a candle scented like Hawaiian Maile Vine. I'm not being mean, I said. I just know that next week? When I come down with this cold? And I think I am dying? Next week you’re going to have sailing practice or the surf will be good and I will be stuck here with a miserably sick toddler and all the plouffy toilet paper will be gone so forcing me to blow my nose with one-ply. Besides, I said as I left the room to go watch **The Hills, I lit you a scented candle to fall asleep to. And from the hallway I heard a most pathetic small voice say, You lit that candle for yourself. And darn it all if he wasn't right. Because every time he exhaled I thought for sure he had farted and the wall of pillows I had built around him would never pass any real scientific tests on germ warfare.

Back soon with something more compelling.

*And here I must wave off the demons of sick. Because you know that’s how it works, right? Things like leprosy, they have nothing to do with actual germs or viruses or cells dividing and everything to do with you taunting them. So hello leprosy, go away gout. I highly doubt Bryan will ever fall victim to TSS but if he does pass out one day in a public bathroom stall we know who is to blame for not reading the insert in the box of tampons. Moi.

**I would be remiss if I did not mention that I could barely watch The Hills this week so distracted was I with Lauren's mustache and Audrina's overly white/blue teeth. WTF is up with that???