I think The Fiance is testing me this week to see if I really do want to get married. You know that whole “in sickness and in health bit”? Yeah. That part of our future vows is definitely being tested.
As I write this, he is sitting at home, spewing his flu germs all over the apartment. I feel badly that he’s home sick and feels so rotten, but I don’t want to get too close to him because stupid me did not get a flu shot this year.
He’s taken up camp on the couch, which is definitely a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I don’t have to put up with his constant moaning in his sleep any more. Imagine Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally, moaning in despair. Except, this is a moan on every exhale. Every. Single. Exhale. He (willingly) slept on the couch last night, so I actually got a decent night’s sleep. At last.
But on the other hand, the couch is in the middle of our apartment. Which means he’s sitting in the middle of the apartment, day and night, exhaling, coughing, and sneezing. With every single breath, more germs enter our apartment. You guys, they don’t make enough Lysol in the world for this. There is no way that I can germ-proof the entire apartment. And trust me, I’ve tried. I’ve tried a lot. But I ran out of Lysol, so the de-germing is currently paused.
You guys, I love this man, even in sickness, I really really do. But I also really really don’t want to get the flu!