Me: Okay buddy - I have to drag the garbage around front.
Son: Leave the dog with me Daddy. I want him to sit with me.
Jeez - he is sick. He's never once (in the daytime) asked for companionship when I've had to go do something in the yard for 10 minutes. He woke up (vaguely) this morning, rolled around and went to bathroom, then collapsed back in bed for two more hours. I kept popping up to see how he was and it was clear he'd tried to get up - but just couldn't. So in the end I sat next to him reading for an hour.
It actually reminded me (for no good reason) of an episode of House where a guy discovered that his illness made him not-a-genius (they'd obviously ruled out Lupus quite early on). The doctors could medicate him of all the life-threatening guff - but he'd have to take a certain medication to cure him of some brain issue that made him dumber than he actually was. But his quirk was that when he was super-smart he loathed his girlfriend because she was just too dumb for him. I suddenly was wracked with fear that maybe my own medical issues have the odd side-quirk that I'm besotted with sausage. What if I could actually be cured of all the grim shit - but it would also take away my sausage-love? What if sausage is trying to kill me!!!
He's been up for about 45 minutes now and hasn't even sat upright yet. Boy Flu is infinitely more painful to watch than Man Flu. But I had to go out and move crap to the curb. And it's officially cold now. There's a veneer of frost on everything. Anything still clinging for dear life to trees is dropping off dead. It is officially as cold as...
Right - we're gonna sit around and read. I'll try bashing through a big chunk of The Adjustment Team whilst he's too weak to pay attention to the fact I'm not reading about trains.