Not that kind of spring fever!

Ever had one of those weeks that was chock full of both great and not so great? That was my week. 

It started last weekend when I brought 3 of the 4 grandchildren home with me for a visit, after going to Indianapolis for the granddaughter’s talent show, which was great.   We had great fun, not so great weather but we managed to make the most of the one nice afternoon and paid the grandkids to pick up sticks.   There are millions down in the yard from the winds and winter, as you know.  We said “This is what we’re gonna do…” and they were sold.  A little monetary reward and a trip to the dollar store, which one grandson kept calling the money store (I wish), and we had ourselves a great day. 

We also had one grandchild with a 24-hour flu bug.  A very surprised look on his face, let me tell you, as he sent hot chocolate and toast onto the kitchen floor.  It is not the first time a grandkid has been sick while here so we dealt with it, like the champs we are.  He soon felt better, just the one incident, and we were back to fun.  We met parents the next day and had a nice Sunday evening ourselves, started the week as normal as pie.  

That flu bug though…it was quick and aggressive and made the rest of this week not so great.  I was sick first, and a message mid-morning to hubs brought back “I’m coming home”.  Oh, no, sillies, not to take care of me but because he was not feeling so great himself.  Rather than wait it out to see if he really were sick, he was preemptive and came home…good idea. I nodded my head to him in greeting as he laid in his recliner.  So, here we both were, sick.  I really was out but was a bit miffed, I admit, to not be allowed to wallow in solitude.  I laid in the guest bed or the couch for the next day…having abandoned our king size bed for him.  

Along about 2 a.m. as I laid on the couch, for someplace different, here he came, shuffling out of our bedroom and down the stairs, presumably to lay on the bed downstairs.  Okay, I thought, I’m not thrilled about that bed getting all buggy-buggy but there’s laundry solutions for that I suppose, crashed back to sleep.  Around 4 a.m. I made my way back to the guest bed, my haven, and HE WAS IN IT!   

Now, I don’t know how any of you would feel about this but I was seriously ticked.  First, in the throes of my being sick, I abandoned our bed, made it up, sprayed it with Lysol, fluffed his pillow so when he got home, if he were indeed sick too, he would have a comfortable spot.  I eked out a small, narrow cocoon in the guest bed to rest my weary head.  My germs, my spot and here he was.  I dragged my bone tired body to our bedroom to find the bed with sheets and blankets tossed and turned, and not at all what I left for him.  I smoothed out sheets, grumbling the entire time, set the blanket back in place, thanked him begrudgingly for not using my pillow or that would have been the end I fear, and crashed for another few hours.

Fast forward to the afternoon, now we’re both doing pretty good.  We had some toast and ramen.  I had some work to do in the office and soon heard the washing machine.  He was stripping beds.  The kid’s bunkbeds, because they needed to be, our bed, cause well, you know, and the extra bed downstairs.   He explains he is doing our bed first, in case either of us should need it and then will work on the rest later. 

Okay, fine.  I am a grouch and you are a good guy.  Again.