Happy holidays, merry Christmas, Froehliche Weinacten, und so weiter! This year for Christmas I got a nasty cold. Really a bitch of a cold where you can't even really leave the bed or you want to die.
So yesterday after I fixed Christmas Day lunch I took to my bed and have not ventured out except to refill my juice glass. I did however, ask Nature Boy if, on his way to the store to get salt for the water conditioner, if he could stop by the drug store and pick up some cold medicine. I even gave him an empty box so he could get the right medicine that won't give me a horrible reaction. See, I have a strange reaction to most decongestants because my heart starts to race, I have hot flashes and I tend to hallucinate. Not good.
But when Nature Boy came home, he bought the wrong medicine. I didn't make a big deal, I just pointed out that he got the wrong stuff, but no problem because I had a few pills squirreled away yet and I would survive the night.
He blew a gasket.
Ironic, considering his behavior when he's sick.
I think maybe it's the difference between men and women being sick, though. I just take care of myself as best as I can and I make arrangements for everyone else in the house before I collapse. So the boys have food, Goober has supervision and laundry is done. Also, I try to minimize the contagion by just staying the hell away from everyone.
Nature Boy... well, it's good that we have a wheelchair because he's convinced he needs it if he has a sniffle. It's also good that my best friend is a nurse because I've been tempted to call her sometimes to hook up an IV drip for him.
I've noticed it's like this for most of the men I know. I wonder why?