Mike's Bedside Manner Sucks!!

I have been sick for 2 1/2 days. Don't mistake me for some whiny, she-baby. I had twins and can handle pain like an Olympic athlete. However, it's become clear that my husband is trying to take advantage of my impaired condition. It's as if he's been sticking needles under my fingernails, or worse, cutting up my credit cards.

Yesterday I woke up achy, snotty, and definitely had a raging bird flu. When I asked Mike to feel my head, he immediately told me I was fine. He assured me it was nothing that a little 50" plasma screen TV shopping (aka his holy grail) couldn't fix. Next I found myself at Best Buy for an hour and a half sitting in a chair watching X Men 3. If you have read any of my previous posts, you would know that I'm incredibly shallow and I consider this to be an Oscar-worthy film. Being a deeply loving wife and no doubt suffering from an excruciatingly high fever, I suggested that we go to a furniture store so he could purchase a worthy table to stand his new acquisition on. He spent the rest of the day ignoring our kids and setting up his new furniture regardless that the TV won't be delivered for 2 weeks.

After an appalling night of sweatiness and chills I decided to call my mommy. I told her I was sick and Mike sucked. Being head over heels in love with Mike even though I came from her loins, she ignored me and asked if I had a fever. I told her that Mike had felt my head and told me I was fine and just had a cold. It was at this time that she reminded me that history had proven that Mike had repeatedly made awful medical decisions, least of all resulting in accidentally almost killing our dog when she was a puppy by ignoring her symptoms. I asked her to fly in and take care of me. She promised she would if I was dying, which was little comfort.

My twin sons are angels. They at least checked on me in between their video games. Twice in 24 hours is pretty good for them. Ben even felt my head and took my temperature (I had a 101 fever). He then wanted to take his own temperature since he is a hypochondriac. The funny thing is that I still can eat without any problem. I always told my friends that I would no doubt be the heaviest cancer patient (God forbid) because I never lose my appetite.

Alas, Mike is still destroying my den and leaving debris for me to clean up when I recuperate. Mom and Dad, please keep in mind that your loving son-in-law once told me that if he ever had to dispose of my body he would cut me up into itty-bitty pieces and stick the remains in the cesspool, in order to allow the acid to eat away at me and destroy all signs of foul play. I also noticed that he inadvertently (?) tried to stick me in the furniture box he was throwing out for the garbage men. No worries! We have a loving and nurturing relationship. Just wanted to give you a heads up - just in case.