As many of you know, I've been down and out for almost a week now, infected with some nasty disease that I'm trying to kill off. I hate being confined to an apartment where I can be in the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and living room at the same time. If Tom Petty is right, and he usually is, I belong among the wild flowers. There are no wild flowers in this freaking apartment. There's a plant I keep forgetting to water... not entirely the same thing. I demand freedom! In my exile I have learned a lot. My only touchstone to the world has been Boyfriend, a very dangerous thing indeed. Ladies, Gentlemen and combinations of both, I give you the top three things that have given me insight this week:
1. My being ill turns us into an old couple.
Who knew that all it took was dysfunctional vocal cords and plugged ears? I can't hear him, he can't hear me, I always imagined this being paradise. Turns out it's just aggravating as hell. On the rare moments I have seen Boyfriend during my stint in the joint, this has been the way our conversations go:
Can you pass me the remote? (To give a better idea of my voice, only random syllables make sounds, and more often than not, it sounds like a honking goose in the distance.)
What? (His lips move, but he might as well be talking to me underwater. I hold my breath -- not because I think we're underwater, I'm trying to make my ears pop. Though, if this were insight number three, the underwater thing could be possible.)
Can you pass me the remote? (Honk, honk, honk.)
I can't hear you, what? (Insert sounds of the wharf here.)
What? (I point at the remote on the table beside him.)
What? You want some tea? I'll make you some tea. (For the record, I can't be upset. Tea is always a good solution if you don't know what I want.)
2. Boyfriend is an illusionist
Night one of system breakdown: Boyfriend disappears in the night. Ta da! He reappears in the morning, sleeping on the couch. Boyfriend disappears every day after work too, but somehow, our fridge keeps accumulating more juice, even when I haven't seen Boyfriend. Ta da! Mysterious. Also, while I decompose on the couch, my collection of cups keeps vanishing. I find them clean in the dish rack later on. Honesty time: I'm actually a professional when it comes to ignoring people. Ta da! I have to tip my hat to Boyfriend though, he's done better than usual when it comes to taking care of me.
3. When your medication advises you not to drink alcohol, don't drink alcohol.
This one stemmed from a case of mistaken identity. On day two of the system breakdown I ran out of juice. Rookie mistake. However, good news, there was margarita mix in the fridge and carbonated water too. Put the two together and you have one decent non-alcoholic beverage. That being said, unbeknown to your protagonist, the last time Boyfriend used the margarita mix, he thought it would be a smart idea to put tequila right in the mix bottle, saving him a valuable thirty seconds the next time a margarita craving hit. The thing about being sick, especially when you can't eat, is that you compensate by drinking more. I polished off the margarita mix and soda water pretty quickly, if I'd been able to taste anything, I'm certain I would've walked away after my first sip.
A short while later the transition happens...
I remember watching some sort of movie involving robots. At least I'm pretty sure I did, the idea that I latched onto had to come from somewhere. I got off the bed (the memory is a little fuzzy, though Boyfriend was delighted to fill me in the next morning) and my throat hurt like I'd spent the last hour reaching my hand into my mouth to claw my larynx (possible). I went into the bathroom, not sure why, then wandered to the living room to see Boyfriend on the couch watching sports something. He says I sat beside him, silent for a moment before I started rambling about robots. I was quite convinced, it seems, that robots were on the cusp of taking over the planet, and the moment I was healthy, they were going to wipe out the human race. I was rather stressed about the whole situation. Then Boyfriend says, I stood up, went into the bedroom, and passed out like a fourteen-year-old after a drinking contest.
The next morning when he recounted the strangeness, it didn't make sense until he called me a drunk. At least my plugged ears finally gave me a break so I could listen to the story.
Why am I a drunk? (Honkity, honk, honk)
I saw the empty bottle of margarita mix. That thing was loaded with tequila.
I shook my head insistently and yelled, Virgin, as loud as I could. Shame nobody popped in at that moment. It could have been a great misunderstanding. Also a shame the She-Hulk was down for the count too. I wrote quickly in my notebook, ripped out the page and handed Boyfriend my note:
IOU one beating from the She-Hulk. She'll be in touch when she's ready to brawl. Love you.
Time for tea,
K
Showing posts with label sick days. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sick days. Show all posts
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The mysterious lemon phenomenon
Sickness is gross. Illness makes me want to, let's keep it polite, spew. I don't have time or patience for it. The thing about the colder season is that it's cold season. Everybody gets all sniffly, sneezy, coughy, phlemy, diseasy, downright nasty. And for the record, when people blow their noses, it's worse than nails on a chalkboard. The sounds just skeeves me out, especially the people who make that honking sound. What IS that? Nope. Wait. I really don't want to know. Just keep your nose-blowing away from me. Far, far, far away from me.
As I have mentioned before, Boyfriend's go-to when he's ill is that neo sicktron stuff. It puts him out, so I may or may not push it on him even when he's just starting to get a cold, or I just need a little me time. Who says that drugging your partner is a bad thing? We have the best bonding time when he's passed out in the living room. We watch shows and movies together that he wouldn't dream of watching if he were conscious. Sometimes we have a good time doing shadow puppets. Oh wait, that's misleading, I do shadow puppets. The light from the dining room shines into the living room at the best angle so that if he's on the left side of the room the shadows land on him. A while ago I was making him look like Gene Simmons in his Kiss makeup. It's all about fanning your fingers out when you position the shadows over his eyes. And one time when he was snoring, I pressed my hand on his stomach to alarm him into silence, but not alarm him enough to wake up. He went, mmm, like the sound one makes when they just finish a hearty meal, then he rolled to his other side and slept in silence. Making memories people, it's what it's all about. We have a good time when Boyfriend is knocked out and on the couch. Wow, in hindsight, if I led with that last sentence for this blog post, somebody may have notified the authorities and they would have found my ether stash. That would be like, nine different kinds of uncool. So I will thank you all for minding your business.
As will happen, there is the stage before the neo sicktron kicks in and puts Boyfriend out. Also, Boyfriend's a sipper. It tastes gnarly, I say hunker down and chug that bad boy, because bleh. It's just so not good at all. He likes to add wedges of actual lemon sometimes to make it taste more...real lemony? You definitely can't say it makes it taste better. Nothing could do that. One night as I'm gently pushing the bottom of his mug higher to pour more of that faux-lemony crap down his throat, he resists and lowers his drink. Boyfriend peers into the darkness of the ceramic mug, and as we don't have an overhead light in the living room it makes it hard to see inside. He squints, then looks at me with curiosity. What? I thought you didn't put any lemon in here. I didn't. Then why is there lemon in it? What? I sit up, look inside myself, and I swear I see a lemon wedge in there too. What in the hell? Boyfriend, though not so put off as to stop drinking the neo sicktron, goes on to blame me for my inability to wash dishes properly. I do! Though I don't like to wash dishes I do it because we don't have a dishwasher. Probably because it would take up half of the free space we have to move in our apartment. I don't disagree, because I truly believe that it's possible that maybe I didn't wash that mug. I don't even remember if I grabbed a dirty one off the counter or a clean one from the cupboard. I'm a little fluffy in the brain, anything is possible. As is customary, I get up to make myself some tea, and Boyfriend follows me into the kitchen with the mug of his now-finished beverage. Can we call it a beverage? No. Beverages, I believe, aren't mediciney. What he just finished was not a beverage. He tilts the mug in the light over the stove and looks in to check out the old lemon from his drink. Huh. What now? Look. I peek inside, bracing myself for something disgusting. Only...the mug is empty. Didn't you see it in there too? I really thought I did. There are only two possible conclusions here: 1) In his medicated winding-down-to-sleep time Boyfriend accidentally swallowed the whole wedge of lemon without realizing (meaning his mouth is bigger than I thought), or 2) We just really need a light in our living room.
Time for tea,
K
As I have mentioned before, Boyfriend's go-to when he's ill is that neo sicktron stuff. It puts him out, so I may or may not push it on him even when he's just starting to get a cold, or I just need a little me time. Who says that drugging your partner is a bad thing? We have the best bonding time when he's passed out in the living room. We watch shows and movies together that he wouldn't dream of watching if he were conscious. Sometimes we have a good time doing shadow puppets. Oh wait, that's misleading, I do shadow puppets. The light from the dining room shines into the living room at the best angle so that if he's on the left side of the room the shadows land on him. A while ago I was making him look like Gene Simmons in his Kiss makeup. It's all about fanning your fingers out when you position the shadows over his eyes. And one time when he was snoring, I pressed my hand on his stomach to alarm him into silence, but not alarm him enough to wake up. He went, mmm, like the sound one makes when they just finish a hearty meal, then he rolled to his other side and slept in silence. Making memories people, it's what it's all about. We have a good time when Boyfriend is knocked out and on the couch. Wow, in hindsight, if I led with that last sentence for this blog post, somebody may have notified the authorities and they would have found my ether stash. That would be like, nine different kinds of uncool. So I will thank you all for minding your business.
As will happen, there is the stage before the neo sicktron kicks in and puts Boyfriend out. Also, Boyfriend's a sipper. It tastes gnarly, I say hunker down and chug that bad boy, because bleh. It's just so not good at all. He likes to add wedges of actual lemon sometimes to make it taste more...real lemony? You definitely can't say it makes it taste better. Nothing could do that. One night as I'm gently pushing the bottom of his mug higher to pour more of that faux-lemony crap down his throat, he resists and lowers his drink. Boyfriend peers into the darkness of the ceramic mug, and as we don't have an overhead light in the living room it makes it hard to see inside. He squints, then looks at me with curiosity. What? I thought you didn't put any lemon in here. I didn't. Then why is there lemon in it? What? I sit up, look inside myself, and I swear I see a lemon wedge in there too. What in the hell? Boyfriend, though not so put off as to stop drinking the neo sicktron, goes on to blame me for my inability to wash dishes properly. I do! Though I don't like to wash dishes I do it because we don't have a dishwasher. Probably because it would take up half of the free space we have to move in our apartment. I don't disagree, because I truly believe that it's possible that maybe I didn't wash that mug. I don't even remember if I grabbed a dirty one off the counter or a clean one from the cupboard. I'm a little fluffy in the brain, anything is possible. As is customary, I get up to make myself some tea, and Boyfriend follows me into the kitchen with the mug of his now-finished beverage. Can we call it a beverage? No. Beverages, I believe, aren't mediciney. What he just finished was not a beverage. He tilts the mug in the light over the stove and looks in to check out the old lemon from his drink. Huh. What now? Look. I peek inside, bracing myself for something disgusting. Only...the mug is empty. Didn't you see it in there too? I really thought I did. There are only two possible conclusions here: 1) In his medicated winding-down-to-sleep time Boyfriend accidentally swallowed the whole wedge of lemon without realizing (meaning his mouth is bigger than I thought), or 2) We just really need a light in our living room.
Time for tea,
K
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Sick days
Well. It's November. Not sunny, lovely autumn November either. It's rainy, miserable Vancouver November. I'm fearful for my pretty boots that aren't waterproof. Thanks a lot rain. Though I admire you for keeping things green, I feel that you and I have spent enough time together in the last couple decades. I jumped in a multitude of puddles in the past and ruined plenty of shoes consciously. Though it was fun, please help a sister out and don't wreck my other shoes. I sacrificed footwear for the rain gods, there's photographic evidence. Please, rain, go away.
This post is not about shoes, but I do have beef with the weather. Not beef as in cow, you know what I mean. For some reason, disease thrives in miserable weather and it found me. Came into my house it did. And, as it works out, disease found Boyfriend too. I would like at this point to stand on my soap box and declare that I did not make him sick. We had different kinds of sick, isn't that right Boyfriend? If you want to keep blaming me you'll have to regurgitate your stomach contents unwillingly. When that happens I may apologize, but your cough and cold symptoms have me skeptical that I passed disease onto you. I'm just stating facts.
It's interesting though, how very differently we handle illness. When I was sick, Boyfriend couldn't get far enough away from me. I think he was very close to purchasing me a plastic bubble to contain both myself and my germs. Oh no, that might be me accidentally giving him ideas again. For the record, I will donkey-kick you if it even crosses your mind to get me one of those Boyfriend. He would call through the apartment to ask how things were going. When I first got nastily sick, he hollered from the living room, Are you sick?
Really? Is this question actually coming from your mouth? Our walls are thin, buddy, you and the neighbours both know exactly what's going on, lots and lots of verbing.
I'm really trying quite hard not to be too graphic for your sake here, reader, instead of the word vomiting we shall use verbing. You're welcome. Whenever he braved getting close enough to me, the sweetest move he made was a quick bro-hug and a european air kiss a foot away from my cheek. This does not make a lady feel loved fellas. Makes me feel that I've had radical surgery to my face and Boyfriend doesn't know how to be with me any more, like I've mutated or something. Not romantic in the least. Not that viruses are romantic, but honestly, I wouldn't even mind wearing a face mask if it meant we could be in the same room together. No wonder he hardly gets sick.
Then, when Boyfriend is sick I can't run away from him. Not to say that I would want to run away from him, I would want to fly away from him on a jet plane. Running doesn't get you far enough away. In actuality, I'm very kind when he's not feeling well. I went to the store to get him some juice and neo citron (which he says puts him to sleep, so he only drinks it before bed), I cared to ask if he had any last wishes if he were unfortunate enough not to make it through the night, I got him some of my special tea (the kind I've been rationing because I can't find it anywhere anymore! Sadness!) and, most importantly (get your hands ready to catch your jaw when it drops) I watched a hockey game with him tonight. The whole thing. I got bamboozled by his pitiful feverish face. I even know who was playing. Vancouver and...le crap...Chicago. Chicago? Yes. Took me a second but I remembered. Okay, I may have slept through the first period (be proud I understand that it's not innings or quarters, I know things) and woke up with lock jaw, and second period I was busy playing on my phone, and third period I was doing something I'm quite sure, maybe staring off into space. Possibly solving the mysteries of the universe, le damn if I can recall though. The point is I was there, I heard all of the mumbles of nice goal and such from the bundled up Boyfriend, who, I should also announce was wearing fleece pants. If you're just tuning into my blog you might want to go back a few posts to read about Boyfriend's relationship with shorts, fyi I don't date freaks that spend all their time in their underoos. Anymore. We all make mistakes. What I mean to say is that I care enough to be with Boyfriend when he needs me, even if his needs are just a buddy to watch the hockey match with. I can be a good girlfriend, I'm not all She-Hulk and memory loss all the time.
My cat is making love to a box of office supplies... not sexy love, she's just rubbing up against it. Not rubbing up against the box in a sexy way, but it's making her both happy and satisfied. Not happy and satisfied in the "I need a cigarette, that was great" kind of way. I feel like there's no winning with what I mean to say here.
After the game, Boyfriend asks for some tea. I hear, it's time for neo citron so I can go to sleep. I'm entirely wrong, but who can blame me for what I think I hear? I watched a hockey game, I need some time away from TSN and whatever other sports stuff is on tv. Boyfriend gets his neo citron, and this lady gets her couch back. Everybody wins!
Time for tea,
K
This post is not about shoes, but I do have beef with the weather. Not beef as in cow, you know what I mean. For some reason, disease thrives in miserable weather and it found me. Came into my house it did. And, as it works out, disease found Boyfriend too. I would like at this point to stand on my soap box and declare that I did not make him sick. We had different kinds of sick, isn't that right Boyfriend? If you want to keep blaming me you'll have to regurgitate your stomach contents unwillingly. When that happens I may apologize, but your cough and cold symptoms have me skeptical that I passed disease onto you. I'm just stating facts.
It's interesting though, how very differently we handle illness. When I was sick, Boyfriend couldn't get far enough away from me. I think he was very close to purchasing me a plastic bubble to contain both myself and my germs. Oh no, that might be me accidentally giving him ideas again. For the record, I will donkey-kick you if it even crosses your mind to get me one of those Boyfriend. He would call through the apartment to ask how things were going. When I first got nastily sick, he hollered from the living room, Are you sick?
Really? Is this question actually coming from your mouth? Our walls are thin, buddy, you and the neighbours both know exactly what's going on, lots and lots of verbing.
I'm really trying quite hard not to be too graphic for your sake here, reader, instead of the word vomiting we shall use verbing. You're welcome. Whenever he braved getting close enough to me, the sweetest move he made was a quick bro-hug and a european air kiss a foot away from my cheek. This does not make a lady feel loved fellas. Makes me feel that I've had radical surgery to my face and Boyfriend doesn't know how to be with me any more, like I've mutated or something. Not romantic in the least. Not that viruses are romantic, but honestly, I wouldn't even mind wearing a face mask if it meant we could be in the same room together. No wonder he hardly gets sick.
Then, when Boyfriend is sick I can't run away from him. Not to say that I would want to run away from him, I would want to fly away from him on a jet plane. Running doesn't get you far enough away. In actuality, I'm very kind when he's not feeling well. I went to the store to get him some juice and neo citron (which he says puts him to sleep, so he only drinks it before bed), I cared to ask if he had any last wishes if he were unfortunate enough not to make it through the night, I got him some of my special tea (the kind I've been rationing because I can't find it anywhere anymore! Sadness!) and, most importantly (get your hands ready to catch your jaw when it drops) I watched a hockey game with him tonight. The whole thing. I got bamboozled by his pitiful feverish face. I even know who was playing. Vancouver and...le crap...Chicago. Chicago? Yes. Took me a second but I remembered. Okay, I may have slept through the first period (be proud I understand that it's not innings or quarters, I know things) and woke up with lock jaw, and second period I was busy playing on my phone, and third period I was doing something I'm quite sure, maybe staring off into space. Possibly solving the mysteries of the universe, le damn if I can recall though. The point is I was there, I heard all of the mumbles of nice goal and such from the bundled up Boyfriend, who, I should also announce was wearing fleece pants. If you're just tuning into my blog you might want to go back a few posts to read about Boyfriend's relationship with shorts, fyi I don't date freaks that spend all their time in their underoos. Anymore. We all make mistakes. What I mean to say is that I care enough to be with Boyfriend when he needs me, even if his needs are just a buddy to watch the hockey match with. I can be a good girlfriend, I'm not all She-Hulk and memory loss all the time.
My cat is making love to a box of office supplies... not sexy love, she's just rubbing up against it. Not rubbing up against the box in a sexy way, but it's making her both happy and satisfied. Not happy and satisfied in the "I need a cigarette, that was great" kind of way. I feel like there's no winning with what I mean to say here.
After the game, Boyfriend asks for some tea. I hear, it's time for neo citron so I can go to sleep. I'm entirely wrong, but who can blame me for what I think I hear? I watched a hockey game, I need some time away from TSN and whatever other sports stuff is on tv. Boyfriend gets his neo citron, and this lady gets her couch back. Everybody wins!
Time for tea,
K
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