If this post makes no sense, it’s not my fault. I haven’t slept in about a year. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating.
Husband has been sick. First, a few weeks ago, it was strep throat. A round of antibiotics did the trick, only to open the door for a sinus infection. Husband is now on his third round of yet another antibiotic in order to kill whatever has decided to decamp in Husband’s head. (The first two — the “wimpy drugs” as I affectionately called them — couldn’t take the heat.)
In the meantime, as a war is being waged inside Husband’s nasal passages, a war also is being waged at night. It comes in the form of snoring. And, snorting. And, coughing. And, changing body positions at the speed of light.
I’m not going to lie to ya. It made me a little pissy. And, that made me feel guilty because you marry for “in sickness and in health,” right? It’s just hard to remember those words — or any words — when you are on your umpteenth night of four hours of sleep. (Yes, God knew what she was doing when she did not give me children.)
It wouldn’t be so terrible if I had someplace else to go. But, we only have one bed and one pretty broken down couch that also equals no sleep.
Last night, the super-biotics finally kicked in. This is why I have the energy to type. I think I got 8 hours. Can I get an hallelujah?
Everyone talks about the big stuff around marriage — the finances, the children, the blah-blah-blah. I say it’s the little things. Both good and bad. Husband snatching covers in the middle of the night as he attemps to roll away from whatever ails him is one such little thing. But, it is still hard. Thank the heavens for modern medicine (and future new houses with guest bedrooms).
