Things Are Getting Iffy Around Here

Mike is sick. Poor baby. It's only 7:30pm, yet he's been in bed for at least a half hour. As I type this, he is snoring away next to me.

I'm trying to avoid any kind of contact with the man. I do not. I repeat. I do not want to catch it. Whatever "it" is. He's got a sore throat and a stuffy nose. He says he feels like sh**(his words, not mine). I don't know what sh** actually feels like, but I'm guessing it's not nice. Again, I do not want it.

I've tried telling him to sleep in the spare room. We have one now that Tristan is in college. He won't do it. He says I should sleep in there since I'm not sick. I tell him he should since he IS sick. Neither of us is sleeping in there.

I swear, he better stay on his side of the bed. And breathe in the opposite direction. If I wake in the morning with the slightest inkling of a sore throat or stuffy nose, I'm not sure what I'm liable to do.