I have declared war on dust. I was chasing the dust bunnies around the house with my Miele when I started to sniffle. Not unusual considering that I’m allergic to the cat, the dogs and the dust mite. What was unusual was that my sniffles just got worse and by evening I was totally congested. I started running a low grade fever and the doctor has diagnosed me with a mild upper respiratory infection.

All week I’ve been held up in my bunker armed with the latest artillery in the defense against germs. I’m flanked by my Golden Retriever and Chocolate Lab. At a moments notice I can deploy the box of tissues, Delsym, Afrin, Advil, water and the hand sanitizer against the invading forces.

Enter spouse

My husband has just arrived home from work and is standing in the kitchen staring at the bag of dog food on the floor in the corner. I’m still on the couch…errr in my bunker, surrounded by the wreckage of battle.

“Honey, why is the dog food upstairs?”

Sniff “I didn’t feel well enough to refill the container this morning when I fed them. It was just easier to bring the bag up and leave it there.”

HELLO. Upper respiratory infection here. You know, SICK and I’m still getting up at 6:00 a.m. to feed the animals and get our son off to school. While you only get yourself ready and leave. Unfair.

“Oh.”

While I watch from my bunker, he picks up the bag and returns it to the basement. Then he refills the containers we keep upstairs. Good man. Maybe I’ll keep him after all.

Later that day

I hear things hitting the side of the house and our Jeep. Sniper? After some recon, I discover that the enemy….errr my husband is standing on his putting green lobbing plastic golf balls at everything.

I opened the window, “What are you doing?”

“Practicing.” Hits another ball at my Jeep. “Shanking them all over the place.”

“Oh. How about coming in and snuggling with your sick wife?”

“I know I said, “in sickness and in health” and everything but I don’t want to get sick too and you’re germy.”

I stick my tongue out at him. That’s code for I love you. “Be that way then.” And I closed the window.

Revenge. I’ll let the dogs out. They’ll keep him busy trying to steal his golf balls. He-he.

Anyone need a husband?

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