And Then He Punched Me In My Lady Balls.

I spent my weekend having to deal with The Pilot who had the audacity to come home sick from work on Thursday night and infect my apartment with his germs and the icing on the cake? He kept demanding that I baby him as he sat on the couch with snot dripping out of his nose and coughs that sent he dog running in the other direction.

The Pilot kept looking at me and demanding that I acknowledge his sick puppy eyes that are pleading for me to take on the role of Florence Nightingale and when I was like “Maybe you can take this down time as a chance to train the dog to be a Triage Nurse?” it wasn’t taken very kindly and I may or may not have repeatedly spanked him when he was being lazy and sick and didn’t want to go grocery shopping with me. But it was justified spanking. I was teaching him to be a man. He had to man up, you see, to get over his sickness.  He may or may not have referred to our apartment being a concentration camp and he may or may not have called my German heritage into question.

So wouldn’t it be funny that when he was slightly more recovered from his illness  I got sick with the same god dang thing and turned around to demand that he look at my sick puppy dog eyes and it was his responsibility as man of the house to play Lawrence Nightingale and nurse me from sickness back into health? And that he wasn’t allowed to treat me the way I treated him while sick because I don’t have a set of testicles so it is physically impossible for me to man up and get over it? And that instead of him being able to spank me, he had to snuggle with me on the couch and feed me Gatorade like a baby would be feed as I made us watch terrible, terrible Netflix movies? Or that when I forced him to go grocery shopping alone because even though I made him go out into the heat sick on a day that was melting everything because “He needed fresh air and sunshine for healing” it would be bad for me because sick people shouldn’t be out in the heat but it was OK for him to bring him home a surprise present and when he got home the present was Halls and the SURPRISE!  Was him throwing them at me when I pointed out those Halls are just candies and not actual medicine. Nor does medicine count as a present and he needed to buy me an extra present to make up for it.

Obviously, compassion doesn’t come as second nature to him as it does me. He can’t be that perfect, like I am.