A voice for phone sex, a throat for Vick's.

The Captain's voice had never been more sexy, so I knew I was in for it.

The "it" in this scenario wasn't the good kind. The sore throat he'd been complaining about had morphed into his first cold of the season. 

I quickly took evasive action.

I slept on the couch. (The guest room is clean and ready for a healthy guest, and I was too lazy to event contemplate the decontamination efforts that would be required if I stayed there.) 

I avoided being too close to his air space when he emerged from his sick bed. 

I took Tracy Wiseman's advice and started pounding Vitamin D3. 

I got my 10K steps but otherwise rested. 

I had soup.

As a result of my proactive stance, my voice should take on a deeper, throatier sound (ala the Captain) today. Or so I suspect. I'm hoping not as I have a lot of work to do next week.

I may not get my 10K steps today. 

This is what marriage gets you. Someone should have warned me.

Jeff is feeling better, so I figure I'll survive. And Ali called to check in yesterday, so it's not all bad.