Is that a truck on my chest?

In my last relationship a sick day meant laying in bed, alone, and fending of my ailment in isolation. 

I guess I got used to just toughing it out, because after a while it was what I came to expect. 

About a month ago, Julie had the flu. She was feverish, grumpy, runny nose and miserable. While I was home, I tried to take care of her, the best I could. 

I fixed her chicken soup, took her temperature, made her peppermint tea and rubbed her head while sitting in bed watching movies. 

I don’t know if it helped, but it made me feel better about how miserable she was and she was very appreciative. 

Well, last night I noticed a tightening in my chest starting to develop. My throat was a little sore and I was kinda achy. Oh no! Not me!!

This morning I felt like a truck was parked on my chest. Every breath was a chore because breathing too deeply led to a fit of coughing to the point of almost gagging. I had a fever and my nose was runny. 

As I headed to the job site, I enjoyed my usual morning chat with Julie. I was scolded for even attempting to go in today but I assured her that with the cold and the rain, I would simply go in, issue a rain day and send everyone home. That’s exactly what I did. 

I pulled up to the apartment and texted Julie to let her know I was back home. She has taken this week off because we are traveling to Austin this weekend for a friend’s birthday and she wanted to take care of some stuff since I won’t be home. Because of that, it didn’t phase me too much when she didn’t answer my text. 

I went inside, stripped down to my pajama bottoms and compfy t-shirt and slid into bed. This was about 9:30 am. I had taken a dose of NyQuil before laying down so it didn’t surprise me when I didn’t wake up until almost 2pm! 

As I lay in bed, I suddenly became very aware that someone was in my apartment!! I sat up, grabbed my gun from the nightstand and slowly opened the door to the bedroom! 

As small as the apartment is, as soon as I step out of the bedroom I was able to see that something was cooking in the kitchen. 

What the fuck? Someone broke in so they could fix lunch?

About that time I hear that familiar, wonderful voice come from my favorite chair, “I may not make the best potato soup but you don’t need to shoot me over it!”

I smiled, put my gun up and walked over to hug her. 

Apparently, she decided that she would catch a flight to Beaumont today, rather than one to Austin tomorrow. She came by the apartment, grabbed the keys to my truck and made a grocery run where she purchased all the stuff she needed to make potato soup for me. 

Sheamd I have sat on the couch while we watch Practical Magic and she has refilled my orange juice at least a dozen times. Even the Thera Flu she fixed seems to taste better than it usually does! 

While I’m very much aware that I wouldn’t have garnered this attention had it been a typical Wednesday that she had to work, I’m already feeling about 200 times better than I was! 

Have I mentioned that I am not ever letting this woman get away from me? 

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5 thoughts on “Is that a truck on my chest?

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