Sick Through Saturday and Sunday

I really have to hand it to whatever illness this is that’s putting me on my ass. I usually shrug this kind of stuff off in a couple of hours or a day at most, but not this time. I’ve been drinking an ungodly amount of water, and my tongue is permanently stained with cough drop. I don’t know if the end is near, but man, I hope so. I hate feeling this way. I hate typing with snot all over the keyboard.

We so rarely are given the chance to see super heroes in repose.

We so rarely are given the chance to see super heroes in repose.

I gave it my best shot on Saturday. I got dressed, put gel in my hair (because gel in hair means it’s go time, and I was hoping that I psychologically motivate myself out of this sickness. No such luck.), and headed down to the library with Lynnette and Madison.

It was Free Comic Book Day, and Lynnette did a masterful job of selecting one each for Madison and I; she chose a Tinkerbell issue for Mad and a Superman (with Jim Lee cover!) for me. Lynnette asked if I wanted to look around and check out something on Madison’s card. “Nah,” I said. “I’ll wait until school’s over.” Madison broke at least two rules of the library by running and squealing towards the children’s section. She kicked off her slippers and plopped down on the mat reserved for storytelling time.

Lynnette and I are often mystified by Madison's methodical and unorthodox eating style.

Lynnette and I are often mystified by Madison’s methodical and unorthodox eating style.

Thank God for a wonderful wife. Lynnette drove to Ward Warehouse while I passed out. Madison kicked me just the one time from the back seat – my chair was reclined –  for snoring too loudly. We went Mother’s Day shopping at Ward Warehouse’s Give and Get promotion. We got 20% off all our purchases and our lunch at Kincaid’s. We also earned the free tote bag, raising our own record of “Tote Bags Earned by a Family” to a staggering 1,119. I made it through Eden in Love (Lynnette’s got a collection of empty Eden in Love bags growing in our bedroom), the Face Shop, and lunch before feeling the effects of my sickness again. I passed out almost immediately upon getting into the car and remember nothing of the ride home except for being thankful that Lynnette was willing to drive. I probably should have stayed home, but I didn’t get to spend much time with my girls last weekend, so I was determined to hang out as much as I could this weekend.

Abby's cute, but no where near as good at cuddling as Lynnette.

Abby’s cute, but no where near as good at cuddling as Lynnette.

Sadly, I’ve been quarantined from my own room. I am a naturally loud snorer, and I suppose the NyQuil and sickness didn’t help. Madison must have shoved me and shouted “Too loud, dad!” about five times before I gave up. I grabbed my pillow and walked into Madison’s room to sleep there alone. It wasn’t a bad idea, but still. A man should be allowed to sleep off an illness in his own room.

Last night, I was sent off to the “pink room” again, but this time, I brought Abby along for companionship. She’s pretty great, actually. She doesn’t stir, she doesn’t make noise, and she generates an unbelievable amount of warmth. Too much for me, even. Perhaps the sweetest part about having Abby around is her seeming concern. Lynnette told me that once or twice a night, Abby crawls up towards their faces and licks them – like she’s just making sure they’re alright.

Last night, I coughed and tossed and turned a few times, and each time, I heard Abby’s collar jingle. I felt her little feet work their way up my torso. I got my hands up before she made it to my face. “It’s okay, Abby. Thanks, I’m good.” She would settle for licking the back of my hand.

I know that at times it seems like I go out of my way to characterize Lynnette as a clown. She is, but she's also an amazing woman. She's so amazing she can successfully be both.

I know that at times it seems like I go out of my way to characterize Lynnette as a clown. She is, but she’s also an amazing woman. She’s so amazing she can successfully be both.

My softball game was cancelled again this morning. It’s probably for the best, as I would have tried to play in the light mist, likely exacerbating whatever it is that’s ailing me. Instead I went to Lynnette’s Grandma Rose’s surprise birthday party. I ended up being able to handle about an hour-and-a-half before being overcome with the urge to sleep. While I was there, though, Lynnette and I took a bunch of pictures together. This one is simply one that I didn’t include in a picture I titled Ghetto Photo Booth. We let Madison run off and play with her cousins and other children her age. Lynnette and I hung out for a few minutes before Lynnette got up and said “It’s too quiet,” and went looking for Madison. “She’s fine,” I said. “Just tell her she can’t go outside.” In time Lynnette returned.

I hope that I can get away with writing this without it sounding a little too TMI or too lewd:

You know what I still love? I still love watching Lynnette get dressed for going out. I don’t mean like a trip to the mall or a trip or something trivial like that. I mean like a night out, a nice dinner, or a family function. She’s kind of like this machine that does shuttle runs between the closet and the bathroom in various states of undress. I mean, that’s the obviously alluring part of the process, but there’s more to it than that. She somehow manages to apply her make-up, change her outfit – and sometimes her underwear if the outfit calls for a change in that department – and keep me off of her all at the same time. That’s no small feat.

Watching her go through this process reminds me of a simpler time for the two of us, when she more or less lived with me at my parents’ house. She had a limited amount of outfits, but even then managed to make a performance out of getting ready. It used to irritate the shit out of me. You all know the drill: she’d try on 4 different outfits before settling on the first one she tried. In time, though, it sort of found it endearing somehow. I fell in love with it, like the rest of her.



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