I guess it's only natural that we share illness, too. I was top-of-the-morning-to-ya perky on Friday until I got infested. The vow really should say "in sharing sickness and in health."
This is what we've been staring at for the last two days. I realize that toilet paper is a bit misleading. Don't worry, we've been using it for other purposes.
We don't even have the manly kind of sick, like the trots or vomiting or an intense fever. It's the pansy kind of sickness that I always roll my eyes at when people claim they're "ill" with it. We have sinus headaches. Our noses are stuffed like we clogged them with a couple of jelly beans.... We're somehow still able to produce an ungodly amount of mucous, which is a mystery to me. And we're hacking up our lungs. Night and day. It sounds like the smoker's union over here. It's the pansy kind of sick, but it's miserable. I now have a newfound empathy for all my friends who get "sick" with this every other month.
I guess if I'm gonna be sick, there's no one I would rather be with. More accurately, there is no one [besides you, Mom] that I would allow to see me. I haven't showered in two days. I've been wearing the same PJs since Saturday night. I'm surrounded by snot rags, and I sound like James Earl Jones.
Last night Grahm tried to kiss me goodnight, and we ended up holding each other as we uncontrollably coughed over the other's shoulder. It was real romantic. He's super great for still wanting to kiss me despite the undeniable stench that has surrounded my achy body.
After all, he's the one who shared.