Saturday, 13 July 2013

i've infected P, this is probably the ominous beginning to some disaster movie

Of course I've passed this bug to my husband so that the Great Nose-Blowing Extravaganza of '13 can continue apace.  We are so, so vile.  P is wrapped up in bed with two tissue boxes and the enormous column heater I purchased online while in the grip of this evil lurgy.  Best $80 I've spent in a long time - it's so warm in our bedroom right now!  I suspect the power bill will make my eyes water (some more) but it'll be+ worth it for the warm toes and removing at least one source of moan when it comes to P getting out of bed.

You should know that P is a terrible riser.  It's the one time he makes me feel like his mother and I hate it - I don't even say anything, and he's all I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE MAKING ME GET OUT OF BED IT'S SO UNFAIR or WHY WOULD YOU WANT ME TO BE UNHAPPY or JUST ANOTHER 5 MINUTES?  I put up with this bullshit because I'm a tolerant angel.  No, I lie, I shoot him my best devil glare and say WELL IF YOU WANT TO LEAVE WITH ME I'M OFF IN 15 MINUTES which then makes me feel like someone's mother.  Horrific.  We're a lethal combo in the morning of creature of routine (me) and dawdler extraordinaire (him).  He cannot for the life of him understand why it is that I need to leave at exactly 7.30 each morning whereas I cannot understand how his day does not fall apart if there isn't an orderly routine of shower, dress, tea, toast, hair, face, teeth, shoes, gone.  And yet, we love walking to work together which is really, really dumb in the face of our morning incompatibility. 

Wow, I really did not expect to expend that many words in telling you that P is sick with my bugs. 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Tell me your deepest secrets. Or your opinion on the Oxford comma. Or your favourite pre-dinner drink. Anything really, as long as it's not mean.