I have been attacked by a terrible, vicious stomach bug this week. It's really strange, because I am still hungry, and my stomach is even more angry if I don't eat. Anyway, I feel like death.
So last night, knowing my husband had to go to bed because he leaves in the middle of the night for work, I toughed it out...sort of. I slept upright on the couch, while the kids watched a movie, and then I went to bed.
How is it that he KNEW I was sick, yet this morning my husband asked me why I hadn't made his lunch? I can not even muster enough energy to be angry about this. I am going to have to store it in my memory banks for later. I hope he understands one day in the future when I throw a random object at his HEAD that he did indeed deserve it.
Why is it that when a man is sick, the entire world stops? Oh, my neck and my back, I am going to bed... But when I am sick? Psh, girl there's nothing wrong with you, make my lunch. Seriously? In my next life I really want to come back as a man.
*** To his (ittybitty) credit, he did ask how I was feeling this morning, and then told me I should go to the doctor. I am not sure how he thinks a dr is going to help a bug. Is it wrong that in my head he just wants me to be able to make his lunch tonight?
Really?
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