Sometimes it’s hard to write about normal life here because truth be told, normal life is kind of boring. We don’t have any kids, I can’t talk too much about work because of confidentiality reasons and our dogs, while absolutely adorable to us, probably aren’t that interesting to you. I mean, for the most part, we try to get out of the house occasionally but it’s usually out to dinner with some friends or to a show downtown, but a lot of times, we spend entire weekends at home because we are, by nature, homebodies – me more than Steve because he’s usually the first one to say, “Let’s do something, we NEED to get out of this house”.
It’s particularly boring when pestilence settles over the house, which is what happened last week.
It started the Saturday before last when Steve mentioned that he thought he was getting sick, which meant he was already sick because Steve usually doesn’t indicate that anythings wrong with him. Cut to that Sunday night when he’s up and down out of bed and I can hear him wheezing as he’s sitting on the edge and he explains that he can barely sleep because every time he lays down, it feels like someone is sitting on his chest. Of course, when he stayed home the next day, I insisted he go to the doctor because the wheezing was bad, he has asthma and we had no inhaler in the house.
He turned out to have bronchitis and a sinus infection and probably an ear infection. And he was out of work for two days.
Which means I prepped myself to get sick.
