Sex and the sicky…

Is it 2008, yet? Too bad! I’m writing, anyway.

A – N – Y – W – A – Y – S

Anyways, Vicky and I spent a fabulous weekend on the sunny shores of Coughy Sneezy Land… which sucks. Seriously. It sucks ass. Vicky and I were dying all weekend long. Actually, some guy bought her this new car – he’s really got it bad for her, I can tell you – and she felt much better after. Amazing what warm buns will do. (Before you start getting any ideas, the car has seat warmers – I kid you not!)

But I’m still sick… dammit.

We spent pretty much the entire weekend watching the final season of Sex and the City. Yes, I know it went off the air about 73 years ago. Call me slow! I’ll say this much for them: they certainly left it open for the movie! (Yes, I am criticizing it now – long, long after it stopped being remotely hip to do so… if it ever was so – what of it?) I wanted to see how thing would turn out. I wanted to see the happy ending! I felt cheated!

Vicky asked, “You wouldn’t want them to wrap it up in a nice, neat bow, would you?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Yes, that’s exactly what I do want! I want a bow, nice and neat! Right now, dammit!”

But that wasn’t what I was getting.

Vicky and I, sprawled out on our sofas, watching old television, is not exactly what I think of when I think of romance but it amazes me how the sound of her blowing her nose can sound like music to my ears. Maybe it’s the sickness talking but I am very much in love with my Vicky. She’s really wonderful… you know, most of the time… Sadly, all of this sickness has been putting a crimp in some important baby making, which is hard to… or, um, difficult to do when you’re both hacking and wheezing and coughing and sneezing.

Vicky thinks so, at least…