SH: [pathetic whimper, pathetic moan, repeat for 18 hours] I don’t feel good.
Me: [sympathetically] I know, sweetie.
SH: [various sounds associated with having a lot of congestion, i.e., snot sounds] I’m sorry. Excuse me.
Me: That’s OK. You don’t need to apologize every time. I’m actually tuning it out just fine as long as you don’t talk about it.
SH: But it’s rude.
Me: Don’t mention it. Really.
SH: I should go into the bathroom to make these noises.
Me: I mean it. We don’t need to talk about it.
SH: Would you make me some tea?
SH: Would you make me some turkey soup?
SH: Imelda never made me soup.
SH: She didn’t take care of me when I was sick.
Me: Um-hmm. Should I put peppers in it? I have some I need to use.
SH: Sure. Hey. I didn’t say it. [His annoying Billy Crystal “pepper” imitation that we agreed he would never say again in exchange for my not chewing gum in front of him.]
Me: Referring to it is just as bad as saying it. And you just used your last “But I’m sick! card.
The end of the line
11 months ago