My husband, like many men on this planet, is confusing. I don’t know if they just have no real clue about how they really or, how they act, how they speak or are effected by things, or if they are just trying to throw us off as to never be able to truly figure them out. Personally, I didn’t think men understood the fine art of “remaining a little mysterious”- but i’ve been wrong before… not often mind, you, but it’s happened once or twice (yes, for those just joining us here, that is sarcasm).
Thomas is one of those who loves to claim that he NEVER gets sick. Never! Everyone else has pneumonia? Nope, won’t get it! My immune system is the strongest on the planet. Zombie apocalypse? Psh, fuck all that noise, i’ll be fine; yes, even if you bite me.
Yes, the man who “never” gets sick is also the one who keeps me up for 3 days in a row because he is hacking as loud as humanly possible right next to me but refuses to move to the couch because, to use his words, he is “not sick.”
The one who is “never sick” is also the one who I begged to stay home after vomiting for 15 hours straight because he was the only one not infected with the stomach flu, and who, like a big baby, got a “tummy ache” and slept on the couch the entire day while I watched the kids. Yeah, that sounds not sick alright!
I know that to the working folks, a 4 day weekend sounds like HEAVEN. Maybe even FRIED heaven on a stick. To many women, though, a 4-day weekend sounds like pure unadultered hell. Why? Because we have to deal with men who claim to never get sick and attempt to be mysterious which comes off as being a gigantic douchenozzel . While Mondays can suck my ass, there are many weekends that I look forward to them. MOST people are best in small infrequent doses. Spouses fall into this category (men and women both. I am not unaware that we are evil cunts at times)… especially after an 4-day stressful holiday weekend that included vomiting, diarrhea, crying, whining, and that is easily the most gigantic fight in the entirety of our 5 years of marriage.
Since Monday was a holiday, I was chomping at the bit for Tuesday to come rolling around… but last night I made the decision that Thomas wouldn’t be returning to work on Tuesday, and our awful 4 days was going to be stretched into 5.
Why, you may wonder, would I EVER punish myself like this? Why- if we’ve been fighting and if the majority of most days I feel like doing nothing more than embroidering his name into a nice big fluffy pillow and then smothering him with it- would I be the one to tell him to stay home for another??
Well, yesterday around 3pm, he started puking. I’d love to tell you I felt bad for him, but I was so busy feeling nauseous as well (and sort of relishing the time he was sick and I wasn’t for once) that I didn’t have the time to do anything but go Lysol crazy.
I remember being kept home after getting over puking just so that I wouldn’t be contagious to others, so putting on my ‘mommy hat’ for a moment, I decided it would be best for him to do the same. I certainly didn’t want him spreading this nastiness to anyone else. I’d be a hypocrite if I let him turn into the office outbreak-monkey when I bitch to high hell if he happens to bring germs home.
I like bitching FAR too much to ever feel like a hypocritical asshole for doing it. I like my bitching guilt free, and that’s how it will stay, so much to my sanity’s dismay, he is home today.
All for the sake of bitching. Trust me, it’s worth it.
The fact that the wine section of Wal-Mart is directly next to the baby section cannot be an accident.
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