Now my hubby is sick. I don’t know if he has what Peanut had or the Chinese buffet offered a lot more than sweet and sour chicken. But it’s pretty gross. I feel bad for him, but it’s really hard to keep a straight face because he thinks he’s dying. He was reassured that noone has ever died from diarrhea (cha-cha-cha), but me and my big mouth explained what dysentery is. So he told me to tell his mother that he loves her, he says there should be a paycheck in the mail soon, and that he wants to be buried as he is.
“Honey, you don’t have dysentery, I’m pretty sure of it. It’s probably just a 24 hour bug.”
“Bug? I have a bug? Where is it?”
(me laughing uncontrollably because he’s serious) “I think it’s in your arm, best if we cut it out now.”
“Oh, shit, really? It’s an actual bug? A real bug inside of me? Is it big? I thought it was just my stomach! Not a bug!”
“Honey!! It’s just a figure of speech, we say it’s a bug but it’s really a virus. Not a real bug.”
“Damn Suzanne, if you mean a bug, say bug.. if you mean virus, say virus. Who calls a bug a virus?”
Mind you… his word virus comes out “wirus” because of his accent. I love being married to a Czech! They’re so fun. 🙂