Sunday, March 22, 2009

Sick husbands are worthless pigs!

Being sick suits me well.  I should rephrase; I sometimes enjoy being sick.  The sitting around, the laziness and the added attention I get almost - almost, makes it all worthwhile.
Granted, I say this as I sit on our couch, my head pounding from a sinus headache and mucous entrenched to the inside of my throat like small, green leeches attached to the bare back of a boy.  I have, for once, the perfect excuse to sit on the couch all day and have Cathi wait on me.  If only I could find that service bell...
Unfortunately, a complication has arisen in my grand, sick scheme to garner attention and empathy from my beloved wife: She got sick first. Ugh.  The dreaded curse of the "wife gets sick first" strikes again.  Under normal circumstances, I obtain the dreaded malady first, thus forcing Cathi to fetch me treats and mugs full of liquid sugar, while I wipe my nose and toss the tissues on the floor for her to clean up later.      
Evidently, using an illness as a way to garner spousal attention is not an unusual behavior for most men to display in times of need.  As a man that works with many women - most of which are married - I am privy to many faculty room conversations in which said women denigrate and ruthlessly grumble about their husbands shortcomings and misgivings.  I have therefore heard more than a few stories about how a sick husband is about as useless as wet set of pantyhose.  
For example: "My husband said he was soooo sick yesterday.  He has a simple cold, but he made me dial the telephone for him.  He claims he was too weak to push the buttons!"  Or, "My stupid, weakling husband laid in bed last night and yelled at me to get him the remote.  The remote was at the end of his bed!  He only had a sore throat." 
Apparently I am not the only man that has caught onto this whole, "Help me honey. I'm sick and I can't move!" collusion.
Again here I sit, sick as a dog, with no one bringing me soup or asking me how I am doing. My beloved wife lived with this same congestive hell for the past week and continued to make dinner, take care of the boys and work.  Therefore, her sympathy for me has run thin as a peeled scab from Lincoln's leg.  It seems as though I am holding a pity party and I am the only one invited.  Now, could one of my readers bring me a hot bowl of soup or reach the remote for me on the floor?  I'm dying here.

8 comments:

Heather and Jake said...

What happened to the arm wrestling poll? I am pretty sure I could win..well Jordan has bulked up a little, but I think I could give it a go~

Tammy said...

Sorry you're sick Abe. I'm the opposite of what you described. If I were Cathi I would feel even sorrier for you if you got sick after me because it would be fresh in my mind how horrible I felt.

I'm also surprised to read this and not hear you diagnosing yourself with something other than a common type cold!

Lori said...

Oh boy...this sounds familiar! I don't think I should say any more than that since my husband faithfully reads this blog, and its comments.

Cheeseboy said...

I'm telling you Lori, it's a man thing

Stacy said...

Great similes and metaphors Abe. I'm so glad my daughter has such a great creative writer for a teacher. I'd bring you some soup, but I'm too busy fighting my own cold.

Mackenzie said...

I really despise this whole "man thing." Quite ridiculous really!

Cheeseboy said...

Thanks Stacy - you're daughter is becoming a great creative writer herself. She wants to go on and on. Hope you feel better too. It was rough today. Hope I didn't get any kids sick - or actually I hope I got a couple sick so they won't be there tomorrow - but not yours of course.

Tyler and Lyndsay said...

Oh you poor, poor thing. I am glad that you men can admit that you're babies when you're sick. I proudly say that it's one thing us women are good at... sucking it up when we're sick!

okay, okay.. feel better soon cheeseboy.