Ben got sick the other night. It was disgusting. I found him in the living room around midnight, his body wrapped in multiple blankets and his arms wrapped around the kitchen garbage can. He was a sad sight.
I cleaned up after him, got him water, and rethought our wedding vows (WHAT did I agree to?!).
Morning rolled around, and the sad, sick man-child grunted for me to call in to work for him. By the time I was leaving, he allegedly only had a few hours of life left. The following Oscar-worthy performance included a monologue about letting him feel my face one last time because the sickness had taken his sight, bringing him a cat to cuddle with so he would not die alone, and mumbling for one final kiss goodbye since THIS was his deathbed.
I ended up having a half day at work so I didn't go into overtime.... which meant I had to I home to the sassy sicky. I gave him a call to let him know the news, and that I was stopping at the grocery store to pick up soup. A full shopping list from him later, and I was on my way home to play nurse.
Upon arriving home, I brought Ben his requested orange. With a smirk and a sniffle, he asked if I could peel it for him.......because he's "siiiiick and I love him, right? Ooh and gonna need a glass of that apple juice." Then he settled back into his blanket and pillow cocoon to continue watching crappy Netflix movies.
That's when I made up my mind: Premeditated Slumber.
Ben quickly received his glass of apple juice, topped off with NyQuil. After the first big gulp, he realized he had been foiled.
30 minutes later he was cruising on the road to recovery.... by sleeping it off
xoxo, b
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