TheManTheMyth is sick. He has one of those head colds where he wheezes, coughs, honks because his nose is stuffed up, croaks like a frog and is just a real attractive guy right now and an absolute joy to be around, let me tell you.
Last night, I offered him some coughing, sneezing, aching, stuffy nose, sore throat so you can rest medicine, which was not so much so HE could rest but so that *I* could rest because I knew it was going to be a long night but did he accept my loving, caring offer? No. He said he was fine with just his nasal spray.
So guess who got some rest and who Did Not? That's right. One of us slept the blissful sleep of the damned while the other listened to the snores, the coughs, the wheezing, the raspy, wet breathing until she was ready to use the Special Pillow to Shut. Him. Up.
The breaking point came when he was gurgling/snoring so bad that I reached over to see if he was on his back and if so, to push him over onto his side. Unfortunately, he WAS on his side and worse, he was awake. And not happy about me trying to roll him over.
Needless to say, one of us spent the rest of the night on our uncomfortable needs-to-be-replaced-if-we-could-only-afford-it sofa with the dog while the other had the king-size bed all to himself.
TheManTheMyth gets sick about once a year and it seems to be That Time of year for him. And when he's sick, he's about as pleasant to be around as a wolverine and I'm not talking about the kind from the University of Michigan. He's crabby and grumpy and wants to be left alone and I can forget about getting a good night's sleep.
It could be worse, though. He could become a two year old and demand juice with bendy straws and ice cream and want to be coddled and pampered and demand to control the TV.
As much as I like retaining control of the TV, I hate sleeping on the sofa so I think I'm going to insist he take some knock-you-out cold medicine tonight so that both of us can get a good night's sleep.
And if he won't take it, I will.