“I’ve got to take a class in Des Moines in a few weeks,” said he.
“What? What for?” said I.
“Taking the test to get my license. The class is on a Saturday and Sunday, 8am-5pm both days, so I have to be gone from Friday night to Sunday night.”
48 hours without my hunk? Because he works first shift and I work third, all we get together are Friday and Saturday nights together. Not cool.
An even worse thought dawned.
48 hours alone with my tween and teen? There’s no way this scenario doesn’t end in tears and/or blood on the part of at least two of the three parties.
“Can the kids go to Gramma’s and I go with you?”
“Why would you want to do that? Won’t you be bored?”
“Let’s see… a weekend of laying in a hotel bed reading or watching TV and dozing on and off and then going out with you when you’re done?” I added my very best DUH GEORGE expression.
Before he could answer, another joyous thought popped in my head. “Oh my gosh, what if the hotel has free wifi?!”
“I’ll call my mom.”
Yet another one of the many reasons he is totally Husband of the Month.
Then hit your fast-forward button to last Wednesday.
I got The Plague.
That morning at work, I was feeling a little ache-y and alternately sweating and shivering. I got off at 8am and went straight to bed. I woke up around 2pm.
Words will not properly express my most unhappy surprise as I woke. But I shall make the attempt to document my thoughts.
Why am I waking up oh I hafta pee and OW OW OW OW what the hell OW pain OW OW everywhere hurts hurts hurts OW OW OW OW shit did I get hit by a damn truck OW OW OW oh my gah OW OW what the hell is with my body it hurts OW OW hurt hurt hurt OW OW OW *&%$ OW
AND AT THAT POINT I HADN’T EVEN OPENED MY EYES ALL THE WAY YET, MAH PEEPULL.
It felt like the entire surface of my body was boiling and each time a bubble popped, it carried with it a current of pain zapped inside my muscles and traveled up to the skin. Somehow I stumbled to the bathroom and avoided peeing all over myself.
When I hurt, I’m a huge baby and I need to hear Tom’s voice. I used what little strength I had to pick up my iPhone and call him.
“What’s up, baby?”
“HURT OW OW I woke up and OW OW it hurts all over OW OW OW make it stop it huuurrrtttsss OW OW huuunnnnnnyyy OW OW I think I’m siiiicccckkkkk OW DAMN OW OW OW”
He said all the right things; assured me that it was not my time to die, told me to take a couple acetaminophen and a couple ibuprofen and go back to bed. I did what I was told. Before I hung up, I think I might have told him that, just in case, I wanted him to know upon my death, it was ok to remarry but not too soon.
Thursdays are a little rough. I work 12am-8am then 4:30pm-12am. He called work and arrangements were made to cover both those shifts that day, bless their hearts. We’re gonna take a big hit on that next check, but there was no way I was leaving that bed without a gurney.
Which leads to Friday. I decided to still go to Des Moines. I never had any of the stomach issues others have had with the flu THANK GOD and most of the ache-y-ness had abated. I had a major snot situation and a bad cough, but I was up for a two hour car ride to take me to my Weekend of Vegging.
We were sharing a room with one of Tom’s classmates so no *stage whispers* hanky panky. Like my wheezing and coughing and hacking and blowing my nose every ten freaking minutes was even remotely sexy!
But there was resting and bad TV and (Thank you, Lord) free wifi and reading and dozing. I took a long bath and then painted my toes.
And went through almost a full box of Puffs Plus with Vicks.
We got home Sunday night and I found it impossible to nap, so this shift has been a little rough. But I’m off at 8am and I can sleep all day if I like.
And apropos of nothing… I’m on a horse.