What does 'under the weather' really mean, anyway?

I guess that's what I was -- under the weather. More like under the toilet, in the toilet and around the toilet. It was horrible and painful and it all interrupted a good nights sleep. And, anyone that knows me pretty well knows that I: a) am a very bad sick person and need lots of love and sympathy. And, b) I am a walking medical textbook. I know every symptom of every disease and I am convinced that I am suffering from all of them simultaneously.

So, around 3:30 a.m. when I was first awakened by the sharp pains in my abdomen, my first thought was that my appendix exploded. Of course, that is the only rational thing that it may be. I dragged myself to the bathroom in shifts, at first trying to be quiet as to not wake up Jake. Then, after about an hour or so when the chills and aches began I could not hold it in, thus began the dramatic crying. Jake therein responded by saying the following, "Shut up!" as well as, "Don't lick my forehead like you always do."

Upon hearing this I became very upset (although slightly amused), and threw myself into the bathroom to stay for most of the night. I also made sure to grab his bathrobe on the way and put it on. (Only because it was the warmest biggest thing around.) I was waiting for him to wake up, go into the bathroom and yell at me for the smell that came out of (a.k.a. The Chinese Food Incident of 2000). But, he didn't, and he almost seemed sympathetic toward my shivering and put some blanket on top of me. (When asked about the forehead licking comment he said he does not remember.)

I didn't feel any better the next day, and after ruling out meningitis, I figured that I had the 24-hour flu. I was secretly hoping that Jake would come home bearing 7UP, crackers and the newest US Weekly because after 3 years of marriage he can read my mind and he should know that's what I want. But, he did not. I was tired, achey and hungry. He was tired, achey and hungry. I asked him to get me some 7UP and some combos. Twice. Finally, I decided to try another tactic.

"I am soooooooooooooooooooo hungry! I don't think I will ever eat again!"
"I will go get you your food! Geeeeeeeeeeeeeeez!"

When he came back, he threw the 2-liter of 7UP on the bed, and said, "You coulda just asked!"
Clearly, I thought I had asked, and this throwing of the 7UP could only mean that he is mad at me, and why would he be so mad at someone that has just had a ruptured appendix and nearly sideswiped a case of meningitis?

This put me in a whirlwind of sorts that involved some tears and saying things like, "I am sorry to inconvenience you" and "I will find somewhere else to sleep tonight" and ended with a slam of the guest bedroom door. I guess I had been sleeping there for awhile, because I was awakened by Jake laughing.

"You look like a homeless man!"

I prefer to think of it is "Mary Kate Chic." I was wearing his bathrobe (still), and it was splayed around me on the bed, in a mess of my hair.

"It looks like a little homeless man broke into our house and crawled into the bed!"

And, well, meningitis and all, I couldn't help but laugh. So, now I am pretty much "over the weather" and all that it entails. I know better now to keep lots of 7Up stocked up and to stop licking Jake's foreheard.

THE END