My roles this weekend included, but were not limited to: medicine dispenser, nose wiper, feeler of foreheads, reluctant nurse, moaner and groaner, cough drop absorber, hoarse whisperer, germ magnet.
The house is a mess. There are tissues everywhere. I haven’t washed dishes in two days. I managed to tackle the laundry pile, but I wasn’t happy about it. What started as Buzz’s benign cough last week has turned into Sick Central, population: 4, going on 5 days now. I tend to say sharing is caring, mainly in jest, but there are some things better kept to yourself. Buzz is congested and miserable. Abby isn’t faring much better. I’ve got it all, too, and I shuffle my feet and pathetically groan just to make sure my discomfort is apparent. Another way I’ve morphed into my mother. The only one seemingly unaffected is J. Clearly, we haven’t coughed hard enough in his direction.
If there’s a bright side, at least we’re all in this together. Aside from J. Bastard.
Jedi, who is probably the least sick of all of us, is also the most pitiful. He’s currently bundled in a blanket on the couch and whines for medicine at the faintest sign of a cough. He’s only 6, but I already feel sorry for his future wife. At least he has the right idea, though. As horrible as I know they feel, I don’t understand why nobody’s taking the opportunity to sleep. That’s one of the few benefits of being sick that now seem lost. Naps. And chicken noodle soup.
That’s been my weekend. It sucked. How was yours?