Dear Sir:
It has been brought to my attention that I am unnecessarily impatient with you when you have a cold, a hurt muscle, and/or are feeling generally unwell.
This realization occurred to me over the dates of Friday, August 9 through Sunday, August 11 when I was under the weather. And by “under the weather”, I mean that I felt like my innards were trying to become outards, which I think we can both agree is not a comfortable position for anyone.
That said, there was no reason that I needed to have you by my side, holding my hand, as I writhed around in pain and cried like a girl who got stood up by her prom date. Nor that you ended up driving up and down the north shore for Gatorade and saltines at 10:30 pm on a Friday evening. Nor that you weren’t able to do any of the home improvement projects you wanted to over the weekend because more often than not, I was sleeping (with 14 pillows around me to keep me in the one position that didn’t cause my back to spasm.)
But you did. You rule.
So the next time you are sick and I only give you a little bit of slack on your partner-ental duties and tell you to man up and not look so ashen, please remind me of this offensive strike against me. I owe you one. Or a thousand.
Your loving, delicate flower of a wife,
Maggie
