I didn't DO anything fucker. I'm sick.
That's the conversation I had with the husband yesterday as I lay on the couch, near death, for some unknown and still mysterious reason.
Him: I just don't know what you did to yourself.
Me: Why the fuck is this my fault? Is it possible I just got into something that made me sick?
Him: That doesn't make sense to me.
Me: I've been a lot of places this week and around a shit ton of different people - chances are, I've gotten a bug from somewhere and could you please just also SHUT THE FUCK UP?
Brunette: Maybe you should start exercising again?
Me: That's probably an accurate statement -but right now I cannot seem to even hold my head up or sit upright - so I will consider that once I'm able to stand on my own again.
Husband: You're probably dying of malnutrition.
Me: Probably. Because malnutrition comes on fast and hard like that - one minute you're standing and the next you're on the ground, unable to move. I bet you're right - that's EXACTLY what's wrong with me.
Husband: Do you want me to get you some food?
Me: NO - My stomach is in knots - I cannot swallow - therefore I do NOT want to eat.
Him: Well, I still don't understand what you've done to yourself. But you're ridiculous when you're sick.
Really? REALLY? I'm RIDICULOUS? When I'm sick - I'm SICK. I go to bed and stay there. Unlike his dumbass who refuses to acknowledge sick and just continues to plod around pretending to NOT be sick and ultimately dragging the sick out for longer than need be.
Fortunately, for the whole lot of them, I'm feeling better today and it appears I may live, afterall. And just in case I'm dying of malnutrition, I'm force-feeding myself some oatmeal. Later, I may even choke down some soup. Because clearly, I've done this to myself.