Saturday, January 1, 2011

Just Bring Krispie Treats to the Funeral

I have spent the last NINE days in a supine position with the silly assumption that 'I can't possibly feel any worse.' Amazingly, it is possible to feel immensely worse every time you wake up... (I have to say, Mr. Mononucleosis is a bastard. Yes, I did give him a proper name as I feel confident that he is not one to upset.) On the rare occasion I feel as if I can tackle some simple task such as a shower, I get smacked in the face with a big ole healthy dose of 'respect for the virus'.

This has, naturally, put Dorkfish in a difficult position. Not only does he have to deal with my whining, he is apparently the one who brought this hot mess home. Yes, as I predicted in my 'he's trying to kill me' post, our physician confirmed that he did indeed have the virus first and is now on the backside of it. Ironically, he wasn't NEARLY as sick as I have been with it.

Which obviously means that he is trying to kill me.

I have to admit, he has been quite patient with my 'can you get me' pleas. Well, until tonight. I decided that only a rice krispie treat would make me feel better at this moment, so I asked him to make them. He was washing the dishes and said, "Well, I'm busy cleaning the kitchen now. SIGH."
So I waited.

Five minutes later: "How about now? Can you make me some treats now? I'm sick you know."

Him: "Yeah, I noticed. I will get them in a minute."

Me: "Do we have rice krispies? Marshmallows?"

Him (through gritted teeth): "Yes. SIGH. We have all that. But I am a little busy right now...."

Me: "Oh, so maybe you could make them in a minute then? I mean, you're gonna have to wash the pot and all anyway..."

Him: *blink, blink* (slight twitch)

"Oh LOOK! We're out of BUTTER!!! Sorry, honey."

So I texted my neighbor, Cameron: "Can I borrow a stick of butter? Dorkfish is using our lack of it as his excuse for not making me rice krispie treats...I'm rethinking his nursing abilities."

In under thirty seconds, Cameron was at my door. Dorkfish opened the door, looked at the butter and glared at me.

Grinning from my deathbed the couch, I said, "Now where are my krispies, beesh?!"

Feeling pretty smug, I enjoyed about half the pan. Sadly, the joke was on me when Bonus ATE. THE. LAST. ONE.

Obviously, that one is in on the 'get a new mommy' plan...