My poor baby is sick. Not just sick but very sick. We went to work this morning, and he looked so horrible that his dad sent us both home. He said Bill looked so bad he felt he needed to send me, too, so he had someone to take care of him. Besides, with everyone on vacation until the new year, work's thinner than usual. 

So I brought him home with me, to pamper. He had said on the way home that he'd bring me home, come in and say hi, and then go back to his apartment to spend the rest of the day. I was trying my very hardest not to have my feelings hurt because he didn't want to accept my offer of staying at my house. I don't want to seem in any way needy or overly sensitive to him. He has enough problems as it is...he doesn't need more. 

Besides, I knew it wasn't because he doesn't want to be around me or anything. It's just that since I am very demanding of attention when I am sick, I tend to give allot of attention when he's sick. That can get on his nerves, because what he really likes is peace and quiet when he's not at his best. So my constantly asking if he wants anything, and bringing food, drink, and medicine in a steady stream only inhibit his healing process. 

But the minute he came in, my parents told him he looked terrible, and I guess they assumed he was staying here for his sick leave, so we hadn't been home for over five minutes when the couch in the study had been unfolded into a bed and covered with flannel sheets and blankets. So Bill stayed here, and I did my very best to be as quiet as a mouse. 

So for about four or five hours, I stayed with my poor sick baby, who went through a violent case of the chills before finally falling asleep. At some point I snuggled up next to him (a great feat, considering how many blankets were piled on top of him) and between me, the blankets and my heating pad, I think he finally got warm enough to fall asleep. After a while, I drifted off, too, only waking up to remove my boots (snuggling with boots on not recommended, even with the cushion of several blankets between you and the other person).  

***

Later in the day, we both regained consciousness, and though Bill was still very weak, and a bit feverish, he felt like eating. So off I traipsed, into the kitchen, to satisfy the culinary needs of my poor sick baby. 

After downing an entire can of chicken-rice soup and a bowl of ice cream (the best medicine of all), my man felt well enough to make a pilgrimage outside to sit in the sun and enjoy the fresh air. I made him wrap up in a blanket, of course. No way I'm letting him get chilled again after just getting him back to semi-normal. 

Dad joined us shortly, with alcohol (another great healer) and he and Bill had a grand old time poking fun at me. If there is one thing I have discovered about men over the years, it is that poking fun at females is a sign that they are healing. Since both of them have been sick, and are both recovering today, I got a mother load of it before I finally got miffed enough to stalk back inside and check e-mail. Soon, Bill came up asking if I was mad at him. When he was met with kisses and "of course not", I think it made him feel better. 

***

I am now officially glad that I went to the party Sunday. I have gotten more hits out of the other people's entries about it in two days than I've gotten from the ones about last time all since October! As I predicted, I have gotten allot of hits from Kymm's entry, but I've gotten even more from Viv's, which surprised me. 

I said I'd decided to like her because she said in her entry that I was pretty and doe-eyed. *flutters eyelashes* Well now I have no choice because not only am I receiving record hits from her mention of me (even though I barely talked to her, having missed the fact that she was even there, 'till almost too late, due to my immanent blondeness) but I have also gotten addicted to her journal. Gah...another bookmark added to the collection. It could just make you cry.

***

It seems evident that I am really a vampire, and just haven't had time to discover it. Every single picture of me from Sunday night has horrible, evil red eyes. Just in case you don't know...my eyes really are brown. I checked them thoroughly the other night after seeing all the pictures, and I must say I cannot detect a hint of redness. Oi.

I will now adopt a new mantra to chant to myself at parties: "Do not look directly at the flashbulb. Do not look directly at the flashbulb. If you do, you will look like a demon-possessed vampire. If you do..." Well, anyway...I'm hoping Rachel will put up her pics, and there will be one of me without red eyes. Here's hoping.