Thursday night PK and I watched a very interesting special on t.v. regarding the black plague that struck Europe in the 17th century. It was all about discovering why some people survived even though they were repeatedly exposed to the disease.
On Friday, I got to work to immediately was struck by a 45-minute sneezing fit (not really that unusual by itself. I am a naturally sneezy person). By Friday afternoon my eyes were tired and weepy. When I mentioned to PK that evening that I wasn't feeling well, he responded "You do not have the plague!" OK, I fully acknowledge that there have been times that my health has been overly influenced by the mere suggestion of infection. However, I have never mistaken a seasonal allergy attack for the plague. So, in deference to his intimate knowledge of my past mysterious medical conditions and the likeliness that he may have correctly assumed that I was just exhibiting symptoms I had just seen on t.v., I did not immediately snap his arm off and beat his head with it when he made such a idiotic, snide comment to an obviously stricken woman. Instead I simply offered that perhaps it would not be wise for me to help mow the church lawn on the following Saturday given my recent allergic reactions. PK blew into a tirade about how I'm always sick and I never help....blah, blah, blah. Of course he never conceded that mowing the church lawn is his commitment and that I always do a majority of it because it so happens that I like to mow. Some are called to preach and others are called to mow. I happen to be one of the latter. Finally, his rant concluded with the notion that if we both mowed together we'd get done in half the time and he'd still have plenty of time to work on the deck. Now, how can any wife longing for a drawn-out project to finally come to completion argue with that?
So, PK woke me up at 7:30 on a Saturday to go with him to mow. The church is quite large and usually takes one person about 8 hours to mow (including an hour off for lunch). Immediately upon arriving at the church, PK discovered that a tire had gone flat (ok, he noticed it on Friday night and actually went to the store to buy a new tire, but then didn't fix it because he "thought the old one would hold out"). So I began mowing while he worked to change the tire. About 6 hours later, PK finally finished fixing the tire and mowed small square the size of a postage stamp before calling it quits and allowing me to finish the job while he put his mower on the truck. By the time I got off my mower, my hair was more grass than hair, tears were streaming down my face and snot literally pouring out of my nostrils (not a pretty picture, huh?). He took one look at me and said "uh-oh".
Uh-oh is right, y'all. I was downright, full-on sick. I remained in my snotty state until this morning when I awoke feeling a little more human. Needless to say it was a really, really crappy weekend and I had to take a sick day on Monday. Not only that, since we spent the whole day at the church, PK got absolutely no work done on the deck at all despite my "helping". So my agony is all for nought. Oh sure the church lawn is immaculate, but at what cost? Several boxes of tissues and a package of Benadryl later....and I still have no deck on which to lounge my sickly body. I only tell you this sad story so that you will not also succumb to this trickery. It may not be the black plague, but this curse of an inconsiderate husband ravages many.
And, yes, PK, it is YOUR FAULT that I am sick! You can't see it, but I'm sticking my tongue out at you!
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sick, plague, mowing, allergies, black plague, illness, inconsiderate, husband, marriage, deck
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