I’ve been sick the last few days. This is considered a blessing in disguise for the rest of my family because I tend to let a lot of things slide when I’m not feeling well. As a result, nothing gets done. When mama ain’t working, nobody’s working.
My husband told me I probably had the flu, but I think it was the chicken I ate at the all-you-can-eat Chinese restaurant. I should have realized there might be a problem when I read the sign in front of the building that said, “Thank you vets!” It was still four weeks before Veterans Day, so I have to assume they were thanking the local veterinarians. For what, I wonder?
When I get sick, my husband turns into a germophobe. He doesn’t really want to get anywhere near me. He left my cell phone on the bed and told me to call him when I needed anything. That cell phone was my only form of entertainment, so, of course, I used it often. He began to suspect I wasn’t sick at all, but just having fun with him, when I called him four times during Mythbusters to ask him how I looked.
Truthfully, I was sick, but the antihistamines I was taking were making me a little loopy. Since I could not be considered sane even on a good day, the combination of sickness, antihistamines and boredom conspired to make me utterly unhinged. He took my cell phone away from me on the second day after I called 911 and told them my husband refused to bring me more drugs and would they please send a swat team to deliver them.
I was feeling a little better yesterday, so I got up and took a shower. Then because I apparently was not as well as I thought, I took a little nap on the bathroom floor. My husband found me there and sent me back to bed. After a while, I tried again. I got up and got something to eat. That took all the strength I had, so I flopped down on the couch and watched the Discovery Channel in my pajamas for the rest of the day. Normally, that channel would not have been my choice, but the remote was too far away. Eyes wide, entranced in my antihistamine-induced state, it was enough to watch the pretty colors flash across the screen.
When my husband came home, he seemed elated that I was out of bed and conscious. “Have you thought about what to have for dinner?” he asked.
I looked at him like he was from outer space and said, “I gave the chef instructions for roast duck with orange glaze, and fresh green beans with those tiny little onions.”
He looked confused, “What chef?”
“Exactly.” I retorted crossly.
I’m still on antihistamines today, but at least I was feeling well enough to venture into town to get some basic groceries. I needed gas, but didn’t feel like standing there pumping it, so I drove to the only gas station in town that has a full-service pump. The attendant came out and asked, “Fill her up?”
I was slightly offended because my car was obviously a male. You can tell by the…never mind. I smiled and said, “Sure”.
When he was finished and I had paid the bill he smiled and said, “You have a good one!”
The antihistamines apparently kicked into overdrive at that moment because I looked down wondering which one he was so impressed with. Then I shrugged, stuck out my chest with pride and, waving gaily as I pulled away, replied, “Thanks for noticing!”
When I looked in my rear-view mirror, I noticed that he had the strangest expression on his face; like someone had just spit in his beer.
Hmm, maybe he had eaten some of that Chinese chicken, too.