My whole family has been sick this past weekend, coughing and wheezing with a little puking thrown in just for good measure. My wife and both boys have been feeling absolutely miserable and have been popping Dayquil and Nyquil caplets like a young Brett Favre, as if you hadn’t heard enough about that guy already. Anyway, they were a pretty sad bunch, and I’m still kind of mad at them for ruining my weekend. Why can’t they get sick during the work week when I’m not around to put up with it? So inconsiderate.
Nevertheless, I shrugged off my annoyance at their illness and played the role of supportive husband. Mostly that consisted of me strutting around, displaying my good health and telling them that they were sick because they weren’t mentally strong enough to fight it off. I almost never get sick, which is why it annoys me so much when others are ill, I suppose. If you didn’t want to be sick, then you wouldn’t be sick, it’s just that simple.
When they first started coming down with sore throats and wet, hacking coughs I was a little worried that I would catch it right before my half marathon this Saturday. However, I’ve since decided that I don’t think I’ll allow myself to get sick this week. I’m going to take a rain check on whatever it is that my family has been infected with. And if by some twist of fate I do get sick this week, I don’t anticipate it preventing me from beating Viper’s PR in the half marathon because the list of ways that he is superior to me is shorter than Tom Cruise and just as phony.