It's Me, Sara Louise

I’m pretty much in a state of suspended animation over here. See, that’s what happens when The Husband gets sick. All else stops. I wanted to write all about Honey B’s big birthday surprise last weekend, but no, I can’t. I can’t think about anything other than The Husband and his flu.

It’s started with some sniffles late last week, a bit of a head cold, and of course he ignored it (I’m pretty sure because he didn’t want to miss Honey B’s party) but then when he came home from work Monday he wasn’t well at all, and by the time he came home Tuesday night, he was down right icky. And then when he kept me up all through the night with his coughing, wheezing and moaning, I put my foot down and decreed that he would be staying in bed for the day, and only leaving it to go to the doctor (sometimes, one has to put the foot down and issue a decree).

So he went to the doctor and sure enough, he’s icky with la grippe and is to stay home from work until Monday.

M O N D A Y

Oh me oh my, that’s a lot of time to be taking care of The Husband.

This was yesterday…

Every few minutes a sad face would look up at me and say, “I die soon“.

And I’d smile at him and pat his head.

Then he’d look at Fifty, “I die soon”.

Fifty would look up for a second before resuming play with his green ball.

Then he’d call my mother in Texas, “I die soon. Can you come? Can you come here?“

(No, my mother cannot fly to France from Texas because you have the flu.)

And of course there was this; “Skippy! I need juice Skippy“and “Skippy! Where do you go Skippy?“

“uh, to check the mail, is that OK?“

“Yes. I die soon“.

“OK“

bisou