It's the bated breath

Some days, when The Boy does something stupid, I have to sit and wonder what the hell is he doing and more specifically what the hell am I doing with him?

Then, Fridays come along and I am reassured that he's the best choice I ever made. As mentioned before, I have bronchitis. It has not yet gone away and on Friday it was torturing me. I could not concentrate, but could only cough. I called it a day at noon and went to The Boy's.

When I walked in the door, he looked at me, and told me to lie down. I did and he covered me with two blankets, still shivering, and stating that I was cold, he piled a third blanket on me and tucked me in. I would have stayed tucked in all afternoon, but alas my intestines were not cooperating that day. I had to get up every 15 to 30 minutes to use the bathroom. However, each time I came back to the couch, he asked how I was, if I needed anything, and made sure all my limbs were clearly covered by blankets.

I "rested" this way until it was time to leave for the appointment with our new realtor. The meeting was brief, but informative. I like her and I think we will retain her as our permanent realtor. After this meeting, which I strugged to pay attention at, we headed to the video store, and the grocery store. When we arrived back at the apartment, he ordered me inside and would not allow me to help carry anything in. He ordered me into my jammies and back on the couch. I listened and tried to insist I could help, but he said I had to rest. He had told the realtor that he was ordered by my mother to make sure I had a restful weekend.

I left that couch only once until I went to bed. Otherwise, he brought me a snack of cottage cheese and crackers. He made me French Toast, which was artfully arranged on a plate around a mug of warmed syrup. He brought me things to drink, he brought me our Monkey, and he let me pick the first movie. He sat in a different seat than usual so he could reach out occasionally and stroke my hand.

I slept for 12 hours that night. And the next day I did very little again. I made no meals, I lifted nothing heavier than a fingernail clipper, and napped. I also cried and being treated so well by someone other than my parents.

I am feeling better. However, if I talk for more than two minutes, I lose my voice. I still cough and my nose is running and needing blowing constantly. I can work now though, but laughing still causes me to wheeze. I want to go back to the gym, but recently I became quite winded walking to the apartment, back to the car, and to the apartment again with nary a hill in sight.