So the tile work is postponed. Hubby came up to me yesterday and said, "Is it hot in here or is it just me?" Okay. Truthfully, I thought he was joking, and so I said in meh silly, sexy-wife voice, "It's just you, baby." I hugged him after that, and realized he was burning up with fever. Hm...
He's zonked on the couch now, snoring the house down and sleeping off his cold meds. This past Friday the guys had to work in the rain for half the day, and what with the way it's been frigid effing cold for the past two weeks, I knew, I just knew come Saturday he'd have the ick!
Sunday he was absolutely miserable with it, and I tried telling him to just go to bed and not even bother to set the alarm. He had that feverish look in his eyes, a cross between zombie (ha!) and two day drinking bender. He'd been in a good mood all day, but by the evening he seemed so drained. Finally he went off to bed, and I thought I could relax a bit - it's a bit like walking on eggshells with someone sick in the house. You just want to keep them comfortable, and everyone out of their hair. However, once again, Mini didn't want to sleep. He's heavily protesting/rebelling against having to sleep in his toddler bed.
So there you have it: when I should've been relaxing, I was up with him watching Noggin. At around 9:30, I gave up trying to convince him to sleep, and went into the dining room to work on edits. Mini finally crashed around midnight, and I attempted to sleep as well, but it was already so late I went for broke. I wrapped up two full chapters of edits and called it a night at 3 AM. If nothing else, when I dragged out of bed this morning at 8, I felt like I'd actually accomplished something. :P
(Hubby sent this to me. Being married and a doll collector, I can appreciate! ~_^ If you've you've heard it already, just ignore...blah blah...)
A man and woman had been married for more than 60 years. They had shared everything. They had talked about everything. They had kept no secrets from each other except that the little old woman had a shoe box in the top of her closet that she had cautioned her husband never to open or ask her about it.
For all of these years, he had never thought about the box, but one day the little old woman got very sick and the doctor said she would not recover.
In trying to sort out their affairs, the little old man took down the shoe box and took it to his wife's bedside.
She agreed that it was time that he should know what was in the box. When he opened it, he found two crocheted dolls and a stack of money totaling $95,000. He asked her about the contents.
'When we were to be married,' she said, 'my grandmother told me the secret of a happy marriage was to never argue. She told me that if I ever got angry with you, I should just keep quiet and crochet a doll.'
The little old man was so moved; he had to fight back tears. Only two precious dolls were in the box. She had only been angry with him two times in all those years of living and loving. He almost burst with happiness.
'Honey,' he said, 'that explains the dolls, but what about all of this money? Where did it come from?'
'Oh,' she said, 'that's the money I made from selling the dolls.'
Heh. I can only imagine that lil old lady must've been hot stuff with that crochet needle. I can picture her in her rocking chair, giving hubby the evil eye over her project, working rows up a storm. ROFL!
Off to work on the edits for a while. May your Monday be warm and cozy!