I love some things about my wife more than others...
One thing that's always a treat to observe is the floating rationalist approach to conflating any symptom or problem I may have with the need to change one of the things she doesn't like about me. I'm sure I'm the only person who experiences this...
Today was a classic. I woke up around 2am with that hot feeling and cramp in my stomach that indicates it's not going to be a good day. Managed to get back to sleep, and despite the knowledge that that sharp stomach cramp is never a good sign, I got dressed and tried to make the best of it. That didn't last. By 8:00am, I was back home, in bed, contemplating whether I preferred tabasco sauce flowing through my anus, or nostrils. I lie here confident today with the notion that if I had my preference, I'd take neither.
In walks my wife. I had a couple of glasses of scotch last night before bed, so she figures I'm hung over... Maybe I should try taking a break from the sauce... I advise her that I'd just gone a week without drinking while taking handfuls of tylenol and advil for some back spasms. She continues unabated... It could only be a good thing... Can't hurt. Who knows how good I'd feel?! (In truth, I think I have a sense of that, but it wasn't really part of the discussion).
So I lay in bed trying to convalesce... Honestly, it's been a pretty uncomfortable day. 11:30 rolls around and in walks my wife... Maybe I just need some fresh air... Walking is good for me. I don't disagree with this, so I sort of roll out of bed, and we enjoy a short walk in the first warm sunshine we've seen for a few days. I can just about crawl back to the house... Because, what I need is yoga. Apparently, if I did more (any) yoga, these physical aches and pains would melt into the metaphysical stratosphere. At this point, I feel so bad that I'm actually feeling pretty depressed about a couple of things. Those feelings are of course attributable to my alcohol consumption, so we discuss that a little further.
Somehow, I make it back to bed, essentially writhing in abdominal pain. This elicits my favorite of the spousal conflations... My wife just had what I have and it wasn't so bad. I tell her that's fine - I'm just going to lie here anyway.
So finally, 7:00 rolls around. I'm only getting worse... Wife remains unimpressed. I stumble downstairs to get something small to eat and make sure I can still feel the bottom of my feet. As soon as I get there, the wife comes rushing over with the thermometer, to demonstrate how much I'm making of this little ailment. Reads 103.1. She actually backed away. And took pains not to cross within 5 feet of my path. She's probably concerned that my alcohol consumption and lack of yoga are catching...
At least it's quiet now.
Took some pain meds which have created the burst of energy it's taken to write this. I think I'll go back to wishing I could die now.
Which is a funny aside actually, in the religious context of some of our threads recently... I know a lot of people become hopeful that there is an afterlife when they are afraid they might die. When I feel like I want to die, I just pray there isn't.
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