That time I gave peas a chance

In the history of my life, these last several days will not be fondly recalled.

I’ve been feeling crappy, most of which I want to blame on an on-again/off-again flirtation with hot flashes, which have interrupted my sleep and seriously dampened my enthusiasm for any extra-curricular activities. A 'flu-like virus has been going around town and I had a bit of it, and my eyes had been really itchy, too. A kind of bonus, I guess.

This has been an annoyance for the captain, but he’s borne it fairly well. Mostly in silence.

So the other night, I was thinking I owed the boy a tumble. Sure I wasn’t feeling all that great, but this is marriage, kids. You sometimes need to plan your spontaneity. So I pulled out a little black negligee and waited for my prey to emerge from the basement and up to bed.

Of course I fell asleep before he got there. And when I woke, is was because of itchy, burn-y eyes. And a hot flash. And sneezes. This pattern kept up for a while. Every so often, I’d get hot, toss off the covers, get cold, sneeze, scratch my eyes and then dig back into the covers.

The eyes got worse. So bad I felt like I was going to scratch them out of my head. I knew I'd need my eye balls later, so I got up, got a cloth, and dampened it with cold water, thinking it would relieve the irritation. 

As I came back to bed, the captain rolled over and seized up. Literally. His back attacked him. I got him some pain pills and water and got back in bed.

Now,  I have described my maladies. I'm not even exaggerating. I could tell you that my eyes are oozy, too, and it feels like I have one of those skin-tightening masks on my eyes -- sort of like a super hero mask, but gross. And invisible. But I won't get that gross. Don't even get me started on the hot flashes.

Anyway, I didn’t regale you with how much I moaned or groaned because I didn’t. I was suffering, sure. But I’ve been dealing with this for a while and I’m about two steps away from martyrdom when it comes to bearing my illnesses in silence.

The captain? Not so much. Yes, back pain is awful. I submit, however, that eye balls on fire and oozing sticky goop isn't a cake walk.

When the cold cloth didn’t help my eyes, I went for a frozen gel pack in the freezer. It was colder, but it was solid. It balanced on my nose, getting no where near the flaming eye sockets. 

Then, I got a hot flash. I laid there for a while wondering if my flaming body would melt the solid bar of frozen gel.  It didn't.

So I got up again and came back with a bag of frozen peas. It conformed all right. But it didn't really help. 

So picture this, if you will. I was still in the black negligee. I had freshly shaved legs. And I had a bag of frozen peas on my face. Sexy, aye?  

I’m fairly certain that had his back not seized up and I’d have offered, the captain would have still done his marital duty.  But it was 4:27 a.m. on a work day that I could not miss. I laid there in my bed, frozen peas on my face and flashing hot everywhere else like a neon no-vacancy sign.

I was in no position to make any offer to anyone. About that time, Jeff moaned. And not in a good way. 

I thought about telling him, "Hey, I'm suffering too, dude," but it was dark and I doubted that he would have heard me. I didn’t want to have to repeat myself. So I muttered to myself in my head and resettled the peas. 

Then, I felt bad because it’s not his fault he can’t hear well. Probably he didn’t even know I was feeling bad, had peas on my head and was flashing hot and cold. They crackled as I positioned and re-positioned them, but he probably had no idea I was feeling miserable.

I’d convinced myself I was a real bee-atch until the next day when I said something about how my eyes had hurt so much in the night.

 “Oh I know,” he said. “I could hear those peas all night. I got zero sleep.”

People convicted of rage killing sometimes report they saw red first. I literally was seeing red at this point. But I didn't kill him. I didn't kill him. I may have considered it, but I didn't kill him.

Marriage is work, man.  Oh, and yeah. I have pink eye. In both eyes. A day after the night that will be forever remember as the night I gave peas a chance, I gave up. My over the counter drops weren’t helping. I scored a clinic visit and got the diagnosis and real medicine.

Ali and Jeff (back not so bad he can't have dinner out with a friend from out-of-town) are treating me like a pariah. Jeff slept downstairs last night saying, “I’m not sleeping with you, you’ll crawl all over me.”

This morning Alison called goodbye from the door way. “I like you, Mom, but you’re kind of gross.”

My co-workers were more polite, but I be they re-disinfected my desk after I left. On the bright side, I got a heck of a lot of work done while working from my bedroom.

I’ll officially be non-contagious around 7 p.m. today, according to the doc. 

It's unlikely you will see me out anywhere in the next few days, but if you do, please don’t make eye contact. I’m kind of hideous. No makeup, glasses, eyes that look like I’ve been on a six-day bender.

 But I bet if I put that black negligee back on, I could still convince the captain to make me feel better...