After I wrote that pathetic Three Things Thursday post yesterday, I started to feel much worse. By 11 am, my temperature was rising. I haven’t had a fever in years, so this was somewhat startling. Since Craig was off doing some work related stuff, I retreated to our bedroom and proceeded to lay on the bed and watch tv all afternoon. Here’s a fact about me: if I lay on the bed during the day, I never lay under the covers. Lying under the covers is reserved for night sleeping only. I’ll cover myself up with a blanket on top of the sheets, but I will not get under the covers during daylight hours. Anyway, when Craig came home I told him my feverish woes and he expressed his deepest sympathies for infecting me with whatever super virus he picked up on the plane. I’m not going to lie, some jokes involving him kissing random strangers on the plane flight were made. What can I say? I like a good DADT joke.
Together we watched tv and a couple of hours later, around dinner time, Craig started to feel bad again. Suddenly we were both feverish and feeling pretty puny. And then, by a remarkable and rather unfortunate twist, I got kicked out of the bed and was required to make Caroline’s dinner and complete the usual night time tasks.
I went from being the sick one to being the sick one who suddenly had to take care of everyone else.
Craig stole my sickness thunder.
I think we’re feeling better this morning. I hope so, anyway. All I know is that we are now permanently scarred from ever participating in R&R again. Yesterday, in a rather emotional outburst when I was kicked out of my sickbed, I told Craig in no uncertain terms that if he were to ever deploy again, he is to stay put until it’s time to re-deploy home. There will be NO mid-tour leave ever again. He agreed.
Absence, while definitely making the heart grow fonder, also keeps the germs at bay.