My husband is never sick. In the two years that I've known him he's only been sick twice. Never had a cold, never had strep throat, never had backaches, neck aches or headaches, much less migraines (he did have a migraine once, actually). He's never nauseated, or dizzy, or feels achy. Everything that I complain about on a weekly basis, he can only laugh and tease me about. I also like to complain about how we need to eat less sugar and drink our green smoothies and drink more water, etc, etc, etc because junk is "so bad!" for our bodies, and he grins ridiculously and points out for all my healthy eating and exercising, I sure am sick a lot more than he is. Well humph.
The two times that I did know him to be sick were when he had the stomach flu.
Today makes a third.
But this is just dreadful, because my poor husband is sick with the flu in *an airport*. Not just any airport though. Want to take a guess which one? Yes, very good. Atlanta.
I'm praying he can get an earlier flight and not have to sit there all afternoon. I'm praying his stomach will hold up the rest of the day, and the next flight. Poor, poor baby! I asked him what I could make him for dinner (it's been five days since we've seen each other, and I was thinking a nice, quiet evening together would be nice) and he told me toast... and applesauce.
So now I need to go conspire a plan to make our little home as welcoming as possible for a rather sick husband....
Because as some of you might remember, he took awfully good care of me back in March when I came down with the flu.