Okay, so... the Husbandly One is understandably worried about me. And he's feeling sort of... helpless. Now, to me, this should translate to something constructive like... a back rub. Oh gods, y'all, I would kill for a good back rub, because you know, with all the coughing, I feel like someone's been whacking my back and chest with a baseball bat! A back rub... yeah... Maybe with warm oil...
*tries not to whimper*
Anyhoo... a back rub would be good. But, THO is also concerned about how tired I've been, and my lack of bounce and feistiness, etc. So... his solution? He stopped at a Walgreens on the way home.
*insert ominous music here*
The first I knew of it, he came into the bedroom with a glass in his hand. A glass of something cold, and fizzy, with a nice, citrusy sort of smell. However, he had this sort of... manic grin on his face. You know, the kind serial killers get when they're giving you the sleeping drug that will knock you out just enough so you're helpless, but not enough to let you be unconscious and not be able to scream when they turn the chainsaw on? Yeah... that one.
He brought it to me in a way that made me think it should have been in a crystal glass on a silver platter, and he should have been in a coat and tails, with white kid gloves on... except, he'd just look so totally wrong like that.
*tries not to laugh*
Anyway, I looked at it suspiciously and said, "What's that?"
"Look!" he said with enthusiasm. "It's fizzy!"
"Yeah, so's nitro," I said, frowning. "What is this?"
"It's good for you!"
"Then I'm definitely not drinking it," I said, getting nervous. "What were those papers you made me sign yesterday?"
He shook his head and said, "It'll boost your immune system! It's got lots of vitamin C and other good stuff in there! Drink it! You'll drink one every day... right?"
Uh-oh, he's using that "I'm the man, you're the woman," tone of voice. And he's got that manic, "I'm doing this because I'm trying like heck not to panic because you're sick and I can't fix you," look on his face, so, I pretty much just suck it up and pick the glass up.
"Okey dokey," I said and took a sip.
It... was... VILE!!!
ZOMG, it was so awful, I almost cannot describe the depths of awfulness it contained. It smelled so good to be so vile!! It was like... drinking flying monkey piss, I swear!! If flying monkeys pissed, that is what it would taste like, I kid you not! It wasn't that it tasted like that immediately. It hits your tongue, and for a nano-second you think, "well, kinda bland, but... not too bad..."
Then the aftertaste hits you, and ...*gag* Like drinking sweat, eau de gym sock, hangover tongue, with hints of grimy armpit...
And yes, I drank the whole damn glass.
The things I do for love. Because he stood there and watched me drink it. I think I'm going to get a plant to put on my nightstand, where I can safely dump the damn stuff... except, I think it might kill it.
It lets him feel like he's doing something to help me. So... *grits teeth* I'll... drink as much as I can, and tip the rest out the window. Or make sure packets conveniently disappear during the day.
To make up for it, he made me a nice, hot toddy. So, I'm pleasantly squiffed right now. Perhaps he did it in the wrong order. Hot toddy first, get Jo squiffed, then give her the vile, nasty, Snape-worthy potion. Better yet, skip the toddy, give the whiskey to me straight and with my extremely low alcohol tolerance (i.e. non-existent, because Jo is the world's cheapest date), I won't care or even notice the vile, nasty, Snape-worthy potion, I'll knock it back and say, "Gimme another! WOO!!"
Maybe I'll just hide the damn box before tomorrow and give him my best innocent look when he asks me if I know where it is.
Yeah, that'll work. Heh...