Baby Nurse

Carlos is still sick.

He was sick on Monday and went to work, but came home early. I made him Chicken Soup like a good Jewish Mother....or Gay Boyfriend. I tucked him into bed, I made him hot tea, and I made sure he went to bed early.

Tuesday he was back at work feeling better.

Wednesday he worked an almost twelve-hour day, saying he was feeling a little bit better. But then he came home and ate something and played on the computer, played Solataire, sent a fax to his aunt, until well past midnight.

He gets up Thursday morning, sniffling, coughing, sneezing, but says he feels better. After work he says he feels worse.

So this morning he calls in sick to work, and wants to stay home all day.....with me!

Now, let me make this perfectly clear: I love that man with all my heart. I'd do anything for him. I'd take a bullet for him--well, maybe not a bullet but a semi-hard bitch slap. But he doesn't take care of himself when he gets sick and then he turns into an eight-year-old boy.

I'm sick.

I need some more Robby Two-sin.

I need Lemon Jew for my tea.

Lemon Jew is another Carlos-ism for Lemon Juice.

I need to go to the Post Office.

When I say that I'll do those things, he does this pouty-lip thing that makes me want to frying pan him in the head, and he says, I'll do it.

I'm thinking of getting him a room at the local motel.

I'm trying to be a good nursemaid, but if he says to me, one more time, I hope you don't get this because it's bad.

I'll show him what bad truly feels like.