Spousal (lack of) Support

I came home last night and made 2 chicken dinners. The first- BBQ chicken on the Grill- I threw away even though I almost froze my ass off, cooking it in -5 degree wind-chill factors. It looked really good, but it had been marinating for 2 days, and though our homemade BBQ sauce usually smells tangy, I was convinced it was spoiled.

The second chicken dinner attempt was a box of sodium-filled, Betty Crocker Complete Meals: Chicken and Buttermilk biscuits. I bought this nightmare in an unfortunate but unavoidable GSWF episode. (GSWF= Grocery Shopping While Famished). I put the boxed meal in the cart thinking, "this is probably delicious." The final product was not delicious. It was... gross. And while I couldn't bear to put my second and final attempt at a home cooked meal in the trash, I Glad-boxed it and tucked it in the fridge to-be-discarded later.

I had finished my bowl of cheerios when Katy came home looking rather green. I asked her if she wanted something to eat (making my way to the kitchen to sniff the BBQ chicken in the trash- not sure how I would explain this possibly irrational move.) The wife gripped her abdomen, and groaned in what I took to mean "I'll be foregoing dinner this evening." Taking a moment to push the wasted food deeper in the trash, I turned to ask about her day, but in those 60 seconds, she laid on the couch and fell asleep. It was 8pm.

I nudged her at 8:10 to ask if she was okay. A part of me was sincerely concerned, but another, less-compassionate part of me noted that her stuttered moaning was making me feel queasier than the salmonella scare had an hour before. I figured if she was gonna eewuke, maybe the cold tile on the bathroom floor would feel more soothing against her feverish flesh than the warm upholstery. She nodded unconvincingly and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. I sat down beside her and woke at 8:35- apparently the narcolepsy was contagious. I felt perturbed, not only by my extreme fatigue but also by the UConn Women's BBall championship game (the white noise of basketball gives me agita- i only watch televised games as a demonstration of marital commitment.) I wondered why we were still tuned in since my bride was again fast asleep. I changed to a TiVo'd Discovery Channel Special and promptly fell back into slumber.

At 8:46, we moved to the bed, said our "i love you's" and did not speak again until 7am. I slept soundly through her burning and twitching and groaning and moaning, but in the light of day her complexion was the only update on her condition that I required. I knew 90 minutes before she did that she wouldn't be participating in work today.

Poor sickly, Boo... it's not just that GI bugs are so completely horrible (which they are.) It's that
1) GI bugs make you worry that you have an undetected, horrible, awful disease; or that you will some day die a horrible, awful death... you might even have the mental strength to remind yourself not to be overly-dramatic, but you just can't help worry that death is near... and
2) GI bugs do something to your loved ones that make them take a self-protective step back... I love you, but please do not breathe on me... And please don't touch me... don't even think of kissing me... And please do not touch my pillow... do not look in the direction of my pillow... wouldn't you feel more comfortable sleeping on the couch...
Poor sweet, lonely Boo.