I need you to scratch an itch for me

I have this ITCH. It's not quite in my ear, but not all the way in my throat. And it's fucking ITCHY. And my eyes are itchy too, but it's a different itchy. A dry itchy. The throat itch is a burning tickle. The ear itch is a sore itch. I kind of want to take my entire head off and give it a good Q-Tipping.

But I can't do that right now, because my head is heavy. Too heavy for my rubbery arms to lift. Very, very heavy. Too heavy, really, to be held up by a mere humans neck. Especially when that neck is so very sore. And stuck between two aching shoulders. I would lie down, but if I lie down or even just bend over, snot runs out of my nose, which is several different kinds of wonderful.

I'm sick.

I can't tell if it's viral, bacterial, or air-quality related. There appears to be some sort of *issue* outside. Vog, maybe. Or maybe it's just a hazy day. Or it could be that something new is blooming.

And whatever it is, what is causing it, Max is suffering too, poor thing.

But not Lucy ! No no, she's as perky as ever. Lots of questions. Lots of fetching tissues. Lots of gentle hugs. And needy. Verrrrrrrrrry Needy. So this morning I took her to the beach. Max came along, and had a good time for a while.....but soon realized his mistake and sat in the sand and cried for a while.

So we came home.

Max lay down on the deck for a minute. Just stretched himself out on the warm wooden planks in the sunshine, facedown, with his cheek resting on the weathered wood, and promptly fell asleep. We woke him up after awhile - I was worried about sunburns and splinters, and Sami just wanted to get back to his porch construction project.



Yes indeedy, Sami has decided that while Max and I are laying prostrate on the couch coughing and sneezing and moaning, he should saw and drill and hammer his way to a new set of stairs. Which is both awesome, and loud. Max managed to drag himself over to a window at some point and ask how much longer there was going to be construction going on next to his head. Then he crawled back under the couch cushion to continue his suffering in peace.




So Sami wrapped up construction, and came inside, to ask a lot of questions like "Is the ham done ?" Now, seeing as how I was lying in bed, asleep, in a darkened room, and the ham was outside on the grill, and the fact that by the very nature of being a HAM it's already cooked anyway, I used all of my self control and quietly said "I would check that using a meat thermometer. Knock yourself out."

Later, after I had crawled out of bed, I approached Sami and said in my dangerously calm voice that gives just a hint of the wrath that i might very well lay down at any moment "Do you remember when you were sick ?"

Nervous, he glanced over. "Um....yeah ?"

"Did I ask you about the status of dinner ?
Did I ask you to do anything ?
No. No I did not. Because you were sick.
And now, I am sick.
And if you ask one more question that requires more then a whispered Yes or No, I will Lose My Shit.
When you were sick, I drove, with both kids and the DOG, to the pharmacy to get you medicine. Then I took both kids and the dog away from the house for the entire day so you could sleep. I left food for you to eat. I offered to make you jello. I brought you ginger ale and made you tea.
And today, all I requested was a DAMNED COKE ICEE and you just couldn't drive the 2 blocks for that. Just couldn't manage it. Couldn't possibly entertain Lucy away from a house filled with sick miserable people.
So thanks.
Now I know exactly what to do the next time you are sick.
I am going to sit next to your head and hammer things, and ask you questions, and expect you to drive us all to the beach. And it will be awesome !"

There was, I imagine, a dangerous glint to my red and crusty eye.

He didn't really have anything to say. Pussy.