I love my husband.
I really, truly do. He's my best friend, my partner in life. We share everything. Including sickness.
Okay, so he didn't know he was sick last week and I do like how he kisses...mmmmm.
And then he came down with a walloping case of brochitis. Of course he passed it onto me. Four days later and he's feeling perky, fine, great.
I'm still sick. My chest feels like an elephant is sitting on it. You may ask, "Why Bonnie, how do you know? Has an elephant ever sat on your chest?"
No, but one time an elephant squeezed DH's butt at a circus. But, that's another story...
I haven't been this sick in months and months. And the antibiotics aren't doing their job. Fever and chills all weekend. I'm coughing like a TB victim. Right now there's a polka band and 1,000 Polish dancers stomping in my head. They're playing a really bad tune as well and singing off key.
Maybe tomorrow I'll feel better. Right now I'd like to curl up under the covers and pass out.
Of course my animals always sense when I'm sick.
This is why I've had four hours of sleep in the past three days, well, also including the wheezing and coughing that kept me up. But every time I'd start to drift off to sleep, the female dog, Tia, would snore. A real window rattler. Then Tiger, the male, would decide, "Hey LETSGOOUTSIDEAGAIN. IWANTTOPEEONABUSHAGAIN."
At 11 p.m. 2 a.m. and 4 a.m.
By 7 am. the bird was whistling "Dixie" and then vocalizing because, "HEY WHERE IS MY BREAKFAST YOU LAZY FART FACES! GET UP AND FEED ME NOW!"
Sigh... I sure hope I feel better tomorrow.