Last night my husband started to feel under the weather. Since he was getting sick, he was going to sleep in the spare bedroom. But upon realizing that the windchill was going to be -10, he decided that he needed to sleep upstairs so my body heat would keep him warm (I had to giggle at that one since I'm generally freezing cold everywhere I go). Being the good little wife that I am, I permitted his sick self into my germ-free haven where he proceded to yell out on and off during the night (scaring me out of my wits) while shivering so badly that I thought Molly was back to scratching herself again. Finally, around 4:30, he got out of bed and drew himself a warm bath. I staggered into the bathroom, squinting my eyes against the light, and found him behind the shower curtain, rocking and shivering in the warm water. I felt so bad for him but there was so little I could do (I mean, I filled his water bottle and offered to help, but other than bathing him, my hands were pretty much tied). So I did what any good wife would do. I closed the doors, turned on my sound machine, and went back to bed for 3 more hours. Hopefully tonight will be a more restful sleep (for both our sakes!).
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