Monday, January 24

2:50 pm
Car

What a fucking crappy Monday.  3 hours straight of conference calls followed by almost 2 hours with accountants.  And it's like -40 degrees outside.

Fucking winter.

Fucking tax season.

Waiting to pick up the Chuckleheads from school.  Going back to my place for after-school and dinner.  Dorothea has some appointment, so she asked me to pick up J&R and entertain them for awhile.  Glad to do it.  Maybe they'll improve my mood.

Probably not.  I'll probably be relieved to send them home to their Mother.  They wear me out just watching them.  No way I had that much energy at their ages.

Cate's day is almost as shitty.  She's been sitting in the courthouse all day, waiting to be called for Grand Jury.  Doesn't look like it's gonna happen today, she gets to do it all again tomorrow.

And she thinks she's getting sick.  She woke up with a sore throat and was all raspy this morning.  I thought she sounded sexy, but she sure didn't look that way.  She looked miserable.  Big dark circles under her eyes.

She better not fucking infect me.

Of course, if she IS sick I'm gonna have to check into a hotel or something.  She's a complete Bitch On Wheels when she's sick.  Doesn't want any kind of coddling or care.  She just wants to be left alone to die.  Her and her humidifier and her IV drip of orange juice.

Christ, I hope she's taking echinacea.

10:00 pm
Living Room

Just put My Girl to bed.

Cate got home about the same time I did; court adjourned early and she didn't bother to go back to the office.  She did her best to hang with Jake and Romey and me for awhile, but I could see her fading.

She felt bad that she had to tell Romey she couldn't hug him or let him sit on her lap and read because she didn't want to make him sick.  Of course, he totally has her wrapped around his pinkie and so he stuck out the lip and did the pout.  Made poor Cate feel so guilty she looked like she was about ready to cry.  Had to take Romey into the other room and have a little talk with  him, to explain that he needed to back off because he was hurting her feelings.  Then he started to cry.

Jesus, what is it with my kids?  Every damned one of them is a Master of Manipulation.

Anyway, we worked it out that we'd all watch a movie together, but Cate got to lay on the couch and I had to lay on the floor under a goddamn tent made of blankets and chairs.  And I had to wear a costume.  A makeshift superhero costume.  I was Captain Spandex.  Dug out a Superman t-shirt and an old pair of running tights and made a cape out of a sheet.

I even put on a bandana, for Cate.  She obviously doesn't feel good because all she did was give me a little smile instead of practically attacking me like usual.  Apparently I would have been more appealing if I was The Germinator, ha ha.

The things I do for my family.

Anyway, Cate was in no condition to cook, and I didn't want to make matters worse by attempting to cook, so the Chuckleheads and I went down to the Deli and got sandwiches.  We brought back a quart of chicken noodle soup for Cate.  I let Romeo give it to her, to make him feel like he was taking care of her.  Of course Cate was very sweet to him and called him her Superhero.  Now there will be no living with him, ha ha.

Thankfully it was a school night and Dorothea got home about 7 so I took the Chuckleheads home, then came back to take care of Cate.  She let me, which means she's not quite all the way sick.  When she gets it full-blown she's a totally different person -- one you don't wanna be around.  And she doesn't want me around.  She just wants to curl up in bed and gut it out.  Christ, when she gets like that I wonder if I should call a Priest for an exorcism.

If we do have a Baby I might not survive labor.  Or pregnancy.

Anyway, it's the calm before the storm right now.  She's fighting off the symptoms and is up for a little pampering.  I rubbed her shoulders and refilled her water and her OJ and held her and kissed her forehead.  She doesn't have a fever or anything yet, she's just achy and stuffy-headed and  has a sore throat.

She dozed a little while we watched TV, then I suggested we take a bath.  My whole body still aches from skiing -- especially my ass -- and I figured the steam may help her head.  So that's what we did.  Filled up the jacuzzi tub and just laid there together and soaked.  No monkey business, just held each other and talked and let the jets do their magic.

After about an hour we were all pruney and pink, so we finally got out and I helped her towel off and rubbed lotion on her back for her and helped get her into her robe.  Then I dried her hair for her, which is no easy task.  She has almost as much hair as I used to, ha ha.  Then I laid out her favorite pajamas -- flannel pants and my old t-shirt -- cranked up the humidifier, and let her get herself to bed while I refilled her water bottle.  Then I tucked her in.  But she drew the line at letting me tell her a bedtime story, ha ha.  Apparently that was one step too far.

I think my wife may be getting used to the idea of letting somebody take care of her.  I'm glad.  That's how I want to spend the rest of my life, taking care of her.

But you can bet your ass I'm making a run for the Jersey house if she goes all Linda Blair on me.