Monday:

When a four year old asks you to pull over as you drive down a pitch black country road, you should listen. Otherwise she may vomit all over herself and her car seat as you sit powerless in the front seat and you have to JUST LET IT HAPPEN.

This was, of course, day one of my twenty-one day fast from alcohol and Facebook. If anyone needed a drink after a night like this, it was me, but you can’t give up on the first day, right? The kid has recovered but my car hasn’t.

Yesterday afternoon my husband came home complaining of a sore throat and was absolutely miserable the rest of the night. We are tripling up on our Juice Plus and bathing in On Guard essential oil. Stay away from me, plague!

This week of sickness brought to mind last year when I got hit with the flu (thanks, Massie family). Zero energy, zero makeup, zero willpower to live. Ben was my knight in a white F150, driving almost half an hour down the country roads each day to bring me soup and medicine or whatever my poor, cranky self was craving.

It was one of the things that solidified he was the one.

It’s my turn to play nurse, and it feels nice to care for a man who has cared for me so well. Just pray I don’t catch any of these people’s germs.

Your friend behind the SARS mask,

Ang