My husband Mario has a very endearing personality. For those who haven’t met him, there isn’t a stranger that doesn’t like him. Seriously. When we first started dating, I introduced him to my friends. He stole all of them. (Ya- I’m talking about you Dunaways, Musgroves, Witchers, and so on.) I use that as a preface to what I’m about to write.
The week starts off like this. Mario gets home late Sunday night from a work trip. I’m asleep. He comes in coughing, sneezing, yacking up a storm. Lays in bed and continues coughing. Great. He’s got the Man Cold. You know, the same cold my 1.5-year-old son has and is sleeping fine. The coughing continues. I decide “Don’t worry babe, I’ll sleep in the guest room.” I grab the baby monitor and head out. (because heaven forbid the baby wake him up from his Man Cold slumber).
Morning comes. The coughing continues. But now the Man Cold has developed into the plague. Conversation goes like this:
Me: Babe, have you been taking any medicine?
Me: Why not?
Mario: I don’t know. CVS was closed.
Me: Didn’t you go to the gas station yesterday:
Mario: Yes. They sell DayQuil there??
Me: Yes. Did you think Tinkerbell was going to magically take your cold away?
Mario: I’m fine. (Cough, cough, cough, cough.)
Me: Would you like me to run the store and grab you medicine? (note: it’s 6 AM)
Mario: Yes please.
Fast forward to today. I knew he wasn’t going to get a lunch break, so I packed him a lunch. I left it right next to his bag so I knew there was so way he could forget it. Noon hits. Phone rings.
Mario: Babe, where’s my food. It’s missing.
Me: You put it in your bag.
Mario: It’s not in there. Jace must have taken it.
Me: Jace stole your jambalaya?
Mario: He had to. It’s not anywhere.
I proceed to check around the whole house. Underneath couch cushions. In the dish washer. In the laundry room. Let’s be clear, it’s jambalaya. It Jace were to have stolen it, it’d be a complete mess. I can’t find the jambalaya anywhere. I call him back.
Me: Babe, it’s no where in this house. Have you checked the car?
Mario: Yes. It’s not in there either.
Me: I don’t know what to tell you. Tinkerbell didn’t take your jambalaya .
Mario: I’ll just have to order some Thai food.
Five minutes later. Phone rings.
Mario: I found my lunch
Mario: I forgot I put it in the fridge at work.
Done. I can’t even respond. I’ve looked up and down this house for jambalaya residue, and it’s been sitting in the work fridge this whole time. I already have a 1.5-year-old-Walking-Dead-Dracula-want-to-be child to take care of. Now I’ve got a nearly 40-something year-old child as well.
Does anyone else have this problem? I told my neighbor and the Man Cold issue. She said she makes her husband sleep in the guest bed when he’s sick. Apparently I just need to get stricter. I swear when we first got married he knew how to pack his own lunch and buy himself medicine.
Mario’s currently having drinks with some friends. Sounds like the Man Cold is getting better. Hopefully he has too many beverages and forgets to read this.
Love you! Mean it!