Ugh...hubby is sick with flu-cold-thingamajig, so doesn't look like there will be much conversation in our house this weekend. Even if there is, I avoid it because it's too much work tuning in my decoder ring to figure out what the hell he's saying, not to mention that I can barely hear it anyway.
Tomorrow my plan is to buy a new air mattress for him that stays inflated, so he can sleep upstairs, far from the madding crowd. I'll be going solo to the OB, no big deal, a quick stop at Trader Joe's, (By the way, the BEST EVER CAKE is that of the Tiramisu Torte, in freezer section) then out to Moon Township to check out a good craigslist deal on infant carriers. Then...I'll come back and knit. I might take pity on the poor soul and make some homemade chicken noodle soup...even though it disgusts me that, at the age of 41, he still hasn't figured out how to successfully take care of himself when sickly! Afterall, who takes care of the female??? No one...EVER. I say, "Ok, now remember, feed a fever, starve a cold. If you're gunky, you need LIQUID, not BAGELS AND CEREAL!!!" Does he listen? Noooooooo.
To make matters worse, he just left to go play a gig at the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern. I said, "Remember, you're not 25 anymore, so it will take longer for you to recover from this tonight." He never even told the guys that he was sick, and I said, "Ok, you are never allowed to call ME a martyr ever again."
As much as I love staying in my quiet, chemical-free, unscented sanctuary on weekends, on Sunday, I must escape the ennui again. I have to run to the Strip to get supplies for making my mom's B-day dinner (at her house), thai coconut curry shrimp, then maybe go to the dreaded mall (my fingers are making a cross sign!) to hunt down some maternity clothes. Right now I only have 2 shirts, 1 pair of work-worthy pants and one pair of jeans...can't go on forever with that.
Then, and only then...will I knit.