With BJ and me both suffering from this dread disease, I’ve noticed a few things about how different we can be, especially when we don’t feel well.

BJ, when sick, simply wants to be left alone.  A dark room, some aspirin, fluids as needed, and everyone out of the way.  No fuss, no muss.  Just everybody go away.

I, on the other hand, want to be waited on, hovered over, fanned with ostrich feathers and fed grapes.  I want my pillow fluffed, and it has to be cool on the side next to my fevered head.  I want hot chicken soup.  No, wait, that makes my nose run.   Better make it French Onion.  Homemade.  From scratch.  And hand me the TV remote.  I can’t quite reach six inches.  Sniff.

Ordinarily, BJ indulges me when I’m sick, but with both of us down at the same time, things aren’t exactly going my way.  I guess I’m going to have to get some Z-Packs and one of those Air O Swiss humidifiers to clear up BJ’s problem if I hope to get my pillows fluffed this time.  Sigh.