Longest/Shortest Week Ever

Today is Monday, right? Right. Yes, Monday, finally. I've just emerged from the week long hell known as the flu. Ok I have to say that I haven't had a bout with influenza for something like twenty years at least so when I got slammed with it last week I was in complete shock. For some reason I had it in my head that the flu was like a 24 hour virus and then you were on your way. I started coughing on Tuesday morning and by that evening I was shivering and felt like I've been pummeled in the back with a baseball bat. I went to bed in the guest room to save Ben a sleepless night and a wrassle with my germs, singing, "crap, crap, crap," all the way upstairs. And got no sleep because of stupid fever-induced freak dreams. Ah the joys of catering to a little boy all week whilst trying not to touch him in any way lest germs rub off and get him sick, too. My favorite phrase was, "mommy can't, mommy's sick," to just about every one of Henry's millions of trivial requests, though I did refrain when I had to help him wipe his butt. As I lay dying in the bed upstairs my sad little son kept begging me to help him play video games or play legos or anything and I weakly responded that I was really really sick and that he needed to stay away from me, he yelled back, "Then go to the doctor!" What an excellent idea! Will you drive me? Never mind that when I tell them what I have they'll drop kick me out the door and tell me to go home and quit shedding germs on everybody. That was only day two. By day three the random drill bits to my head and ears had started up, Henry was playing video games and watching movies on an all day streak and I didn't even care. Ben stayed home from work Friday so I got my first chance to sleep all day and completely ignore everyone. Then Henry got a fever and Ben wasn't feeling too hot and I wanted very seriously to smack Ben for playing video games with Henry in the same room with me while I was coughing and rolling around in a fever bed of filthy flu germs. Sunday I got up feeling well enough to make breakfast and noticed as I was about to place a pot on the stove a rather large pile of debris including but not limited to a large clump of several day old frozen pizza cheese/sauce smeared across the stove top, dessicated macaroni and cheese bits, crumbs, and please don't let me know what that sticky stuff was... Not only was Ben not ashamed of the state of the kitchen, he was unconcerned.

"I cleaned up," he said.

"Oh, really? Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?"

"No. The dishwasher's not full."

"Then why are both sinks full of dirty dishes?"

That's when he tells me I must be feeling better. I tried reminding him about the commercial where the sick mom finally emerges from the sickroom and her family goes, "Uh, oh, mom's feeling better," and the mom looks like she wants to throw herself down the stairs because the house is a complete hellhole. Feeling any empathy? Ben just said it was funny because it was based on reality. Then I wanted to punch his teeth in. I felt so great I cleaned the kitchen, fixed Henry and myself some oatmeal and went back to bed. Damnation, I wish I could escape to work for ten hours a day away from a sick spouse and kid and then come home and do jack squat after I make huge messes and have the huevos to not even blink when the whole house goes to hell.

Now Ben's completely laid up and I'm not even done with the stupid cough.

Yeah, see if I do the dishes tonight.