Yesterday the Bubba got a last minute ticket from my uncle and went to the Seahawks game. And left me alone on so very little sleep with a house ape on speed. I sent him a text during the game that said something along the lines of "You better be enjoying yourself, because I'm never going to forgive you for this." And I teased him when he got home that he should take Monday off just to make it up to me.
So when I started feeling poorly last night, I thought he would be suspicious of me. And then when we had to wake up with the screaming-in-pain teething baby (STILL! OMG, DOES IT EVER END?), I was feeling more ill. And then this morning, I felt like I got hit by a truck. I think in the night the little Sick Elves embedded a little set of jacks in my joints, replaced my tonsils with medium gauge sand paper, and slipped sleeping pills under my tongue.
The Bubba stayed home an extra couple hours this morning so that I could keep sleeping, and hopefully sleep it off, or at least get a head start on it. He felt my forehead and brought me pain reliever, and as he left, he said he'd go for a (hopefully) quick check in at work and come home early.
Isn't he awesome?