So She Said. . .

. . .”There’s no point in both of us being down.”

Famous last words.

Wednesday night I was headed up the stairs when I got hit with whatever this thing is.  Without going into all the gory details, it was pretty grim. I tried to sleep downstairs (not that “sleeping” was the operative word) but that didn’t work, so I made umpteen trips up and down the steps.

The Squire called yesterday morning, sounding much, much better, to say he was being sent home. I was in no condition to drive so I called Mrs. Mac and she, bless her, not only went after my husband but stopped to get us some ginger ale. A small thing, maybe, but it had a huge impact. It’s so nice to have people who are willing to help, especially when you have no other family in the area.

While I was hogging the bathroom – next house will have two, thank you very much! – The Squire gathered all of the clothes I had gone through and went to the laundromat. This is probably the only time in our marriage that I really wished we had a washer in the house. He hung out the sheets but the heat and the ‘skeeters drove him back inside, so we just tossed the rest of the stuff in the dryer.

Today – Friday – I feel great and he is back in the recliner, fighting some sort of backlash. Whatever this is, it doesn’t give up easily!  Youngest Daughter called to check up on her Papa and said her youngest also has this rot – and that young lady lives in Colorado!

Beware!