It's been a yucky week. What I thought was allergies has turned into a full blown chest cold, with allergies. Add in menopausal issues and a soon to be full moon and I am one ugly person. Kinda makes The Bride of Frankenstein look like Shirley Temple if you know what I mean.
I've been sick all by myself this time and I think it's made everything worse. Nestor and I tend to catch colds or the flu within a day or two of each other. We like it that way. We know people that want to be sick alone, to be babied and be cared for by their loved ones. I guess we're strange. No, we don't like to be sick, but if we've got the same thing at about the same time we can play off each other's strengths - like who goes to the store to get the ginger ale and saltines, or who makes the scrambled eggs for supper. We know what the next symptoms are and can be at the ready.
Being sick by myself means there is no commiseration in the moaning and groaning. He's been a prince braving the cold medicine aisle at Wal-Mart, trying to figure out what to make for supper, taking care of all the household stuff while I doze in the rocker. He's spoiling me more than I already am, but it's not right being sick without him. I am so lucky.