Thursday, 8 March 2012

There needs to be a special daycare that men go to when they are sick. Or an island or something.  Because if they (my husband) stay at home we (me) are going to out right kill them and stuff them in to a hockey bag or as discussed in "Mum's the Word" we will slowly nurse them to death. and then call for them to be carted away.

No don't misunderstand me!  It is not that I don't believe that he doesn't feel well it's just that he is so bloody annoying when he is sick.

For the last few days J has not felt well.  His symptoms appear to be difficult to pin down.  I have heard "nauseous, dizzy, faint, achy and numb" in the last few hours. We have ruled out malaria, botulism, dengue fever eboli, ecoli and sugar overdose. Symptoms seem to be transient and variable in their intensity.

I haven't felt well in the last few days either but I am loathe to mention it, as with husbands and wives, or at least with my husband, it becomes a sort of competition which there is no way in hell I will ever win.

So I close myself in my home office, eat Tums, take Tylenol and try to ignore the moans emanating from his special chair in our living room.  God forbid I hand him the phone to take a call from a client!  He looks, in that moment, like a horse being taken to slaughter, with his eyes rolling back in his head.

I have loaned out all of the hockey bags to a variety of women in need and I may have to resort to body disposal in an assortment of fabric grocery bags.  A good use for them since I always forget to take them to the store with me anyway.

 AND don't get me started on the Eco Police Checkout Girl who gives me the evil eye when you say you need a plastic or paper bag.  Apparently she can hear the trees cry.

Did I mention I don't feel well?

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