the family gets the flu. Since it happens within a week of my husband’s birthday, I blame it all on him.
One year, in March of course, during our flu episode, we both were getting high fevers every four hours, like clock work. We could careless if the other was sick, so we were each on our own. During the night when our fever was back up, we would get up and get ourselves some Tylenol, never bothering to bring some back any for the other person. We love each other that way.
The next morning, Sir Husband still had a fever, and couldn’t figure out why the Tylenol didn’t work. I, in my stupor, didn’t care. I just needed him to stop talking. He crawls out of bed and heads to the kitchen for more Tylenol. He comes back, without offering me any, and says, “No wonder it didn’t work. I took Children’s Asprin last night.”
Before we had children, we caught the flu again, within a few days of Sir Husband’s birthday. We were really sick then. We didn’t even care if we died. There was a few times we had hand-to-hand combat over the bathroom. Sad, but true.
While we were trying to recover the next day, and still very sick, we got a phone call. At that time we didn’t have caller ID, so I answered. The person on the other end was very polite, “Hi, this is Greenlawn Cemetery. Would you like to buy a burial plot?” It was tempting, very, very tempting. That was the only time they have ever called. I wonder how they knew.
Here it is March, day’s before Sir Husband’s birthday. We are sick again.
A coincidence? I think not.