After reading my last post you may imagine that I am back to Texas which must mean that all is well and things are perfect. Not so, because as anyone who makes the mistake of getting on an airplane in November knows, now one of us is sick. And it's not me, which is worse. Because obviously when I am sick I am a pillar of dignity and willpower. I power through all the aches and pains, ensuring the house is clean and the laundry is done despite my raging fever. I complain to no one and stifle my coughs so as to not disrupt my husband's gentle slumber. I rise from bed early to do my hair and makeup. He, on the other hand, is coughing up a storm and is leaving his germy juice glasses all over the place.
Just kidding. He is sick but I feel really bad for him. We thought he was getting better while we were in Delaware but it all came back with a vengeance yesterday while we were en route to a hellish day of surly flight attendants and backed up airplane lavatories (not our fault). Keep my poor sickly husband, and his poor wife, in your thoughts please. Thanksgiving is no fun when you can't even taste your pre-ordered turkey and stuffing.
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