I saw the virus host (aka my husband) for about 30 minutes yesterday between jobs. He was pretty much dead on the couch. Stinking up the joint. Why is it when men get sick they stink? Also, why is it when men get sick, they think the world is ending, and they can't do anything but sit on the couch and feel sorry for themselves? Here I am, starting to feel his lovely first symptom of a sore throat, and I'm getting ready to go back to work. His only job for me yesterday was to mail packages, but because he's too sick, the only thing he did all day was move from the contaminated bed to the couch. Which is now also contaminated.
I couldn't sleep at all last night. First, my throat hurt. Second, I kept getting choked by all the mucus that is building up in my throat. Third, I kept having crazy dreams about trying to check-out customers at Macy's but the register wouldn't work correctly, and people were getting pissed.
This morning, I am more pissed at DJ than sympathetic. Why? No, not because I'm a selfish bitch, but because it occurred to me that he thinks he's dieing and that the rest of the world can just stop until he feels better. Meanwhile, I'm carrying a second person in me, my body has been aching for a long time now and I've gotten no sympathy for that. Plus! I don't have the luxury to lay in bed for two days while I recover from this poison he has passed on to me. I will still have to come into the office, and tomorrow night (when I suspect I'll be at my most miserable) I'll be working another midnight shift. I also now have to run to the post office at lunch and mail the packages that should have been mailed yesterday, and if he doesn't pick up his mother's pictures for her, then I'll have to go get those sometime today as well.
I should call him right now and wake him up. Just to make myself feel better. ;o) Just kidding, I wouldn't do that. Well... not because he's sick. But if he were hung over, I'd totally be all over that.
