I married a saint. He's also a hero and an angel, not to mention, a truly excellent chief, cook and bottle-washer (and yes, I intentionally made that phrase into three jobs). Well, maybe he has a ways to go with the "cook" part of the job description, but really... Dennis is totally the cog that makes the wheel of this family function. He has changed beds, changed and bathed and comforted and cradled kids, coddled me, done load-upon-load-upon-load of laundry, fed us -- but only what we requested, made trips to various stores, played, sang.... all while feeling terrible himself and missing a decent birthday celebration because of his own illness. The man is simply amazing. And he's ours.
The smell of laundry being washed in the basement of this house makes the whole house smell fresh and clean. Which is really saying something when all four of the residents have the flu.
At a certain point, it is impossible to fool one's children into thinking that Pedialyte is really apple juice. Even the young, gullible one.
When one hasn't eaten for a day or so, saltines and ginger ale make a meal as delicious as any cordon-bleu cuisine.
If I ever have the opportunity to design or radically remodel a bathroom, I will seriously consider covering the entire thing in tile, putting a drain in the floor, and making all storage units, lighting, etc. completely waterproof so as to be able to basically hose down the place at any moment.
There are advantages to being sick -- lots of rest, thank you, Lord (and Dennis) -- the sheets all get cleaned -- the bathrooms get bleached -- cooking is pretty much optional as no one cares what dinner is going to be. The advantages, however, do not outweigh the disadvantages. I look forward to being well for a long time.
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