Sickos

For Christmas, my True Love blessed me with a cold. The Gift That Keeps On Giving.

Of course, what it means is that he gave me snot. Lots and lots of snot.

At this point, I'm tired. Tired of being sick. Tired of being tired. I'm TIRED. And sleep isn't something that I get much of, what with my Sweetie being who he is.

He'll be mortified (yet again) when I explain that he has been known to hump my leg in his sleep. He also touches me. And sometimes, when that's not annoying enough, he'll smack his lips and whimper in his sleep too. (In his defense, he likes me--really really really likes me, and that's good, but I'd prefer that he didn't like me so much when he's asleep. I feel guilty slugging him upside the head then.) He tells me I snore. Like that is justification for annoying the crap out of me when I'm sleeping.

Do you know how hard it is to sleep when someone is pawing at you? No? Well, it's really hard to get rest AND fight off the octopus, just so you know. And I'm grumpy when I wake up on a good morning--how grumpy, exactly can you imagine me? Yeah, well, add about 20 points to that, and that's what I am like on a not-good morning.

So, back to the Gift That Keeps On Giving. He gives me this cold. He starts to feel better, and we go to visit his parents. Mom the Saint and Dad of the Wood Burner and Sauna Temps. It's impossible for me to breathe there. And since I ain't breathing, I ain't sleeping well, either. So, I'm sick and miserable.

Then I start to feel better. And my True Love infects me again. Great, right? At least that means that I'm not ignoring him.

Yeah, well, I'm about to petition the courts for a reprieve. What crud do I have this time? Stuffed up head--mostly sinuses--that won't clear for DayQuil nor Robitussin. Cough that makes my stomach hurt and my eyes go blurry. My brain in a constant fog. And that's a good day. Vicks Vaporub is now my best friend.

This is about how much my True Love loves me.

Last night, I go to bed early (for me) and get comfy. I just start to drop off to sleep, and the stupid cat decides now is the time to come snuggle up. Once she gets settled, I start to drop off again. My True Love realizes in his sleep that I am there--and he rolls over, and ever-so-gently finds my face with his hand.

He gently places his hand over my one open sinus.

Sure, it doesn't last long (apparently his *DANGER* sensors work in his sleep, too.) But, my moment is now ruined.

I am awake.

So, I carefully shift positions (to not encourage above mentioned sleep touching) and I find that I have EXACTLY the amount of space my body, minus arms, would take up.

Between the cat, who ain't moving with a severe kick (and she'll be back, oh, yes, she will) and my True Love who has apparently decided that if the mucus doesn't suffocate me, he will.

He now has his boniest bone (and not the good one, btw) jammed into my spleen. To say I am uncomfortable is the epitome of understatement.

I get up. I wait 30 minutes, then stagger back up to bed.

He asks me if I'm okay. "Yes, I'm okay."

He asks me if I went to take something for my cold. "No. I did that before I came up to bed the first time."

"Were you looking for a stick to beat me with?"

"You AND the cat both, yes."

He tells me tonight that I am very bitchy.

Geez. I wonder why.