Billy’s sick today. He’s had a cold since Monday. And a couple weeks before that he had what we think was the flu. On my birthday. Which I’m not allowed to be pissed about because he can’t control it. But I was pissed about it anyway. Not that I didn’t have a good time, I totally did. But I might have drunkenly yelled at him for not even getting me a card. (He got me a new computer as a birthday gift but it was being shipped from China. How dare he!?) In conclusion, I’m a spoiled brat, but I think there is something to this.
Billy is sickly. He got mono so bad his senior year of college that he almost died and had to take classes in summer school to graduate. Dude almost died! From mono. People are not supposed to die from mono this day and age. I feel like this post is leaning towards some kind of angry heath care rant but obviously I don’t know enough about health care to blog about it so rest easy, Internet. This post is actually not about health care. It’s about me. Like they all are.
Here’s what’s happening because of Billy’s current cold: He’s sitting in bed, snuggling with the cat, working remotely and I’m nursing a hangover because last night I bought a bottle of wine for us to share over dinner. But Billy just drank tea. So, naturally, I drank the whole bottle of wine myself. And texted people. And watched Lost. (Have we talked about Lost Season 1, you guys? IT’S SO GOOD. [Un-topical Emily is at it again.]) So Billy’s cold doesn’t only affect him. It also affects the people around him, namely me! How dare he be stuffed up. HOW DARE HE?!
BUT. Let’s see if I can glass-half-full this shit. A nice thing about Billy being sick is that I have been cooking a lot more. It’s funny, actually, I feel like a single mom this week. I’ve been going to Whole Foods after work and getting food for dinner, coming home, changing out of my uncomfortable shoes and putting on slippers over my panty hose, tying on an apron and cooking dinner for my sick kid. And then cleaning up. Except, obviously, for last night. When I drank a bottle of wine for dinner and broke in my new bread machine and left a terrible mess in the kitchen. But that’s not the point. The point is, on Monday night I made a sweet ass dinner. Let me tell you about it. I cooked two chicken breasts in a grill pan with just some olive oil and this Beaver Rub spice thing we got from Dr. Gonzo in Worcester. And I made this weird box of bulger pilaf or something (I don’t know, it’s wheat and pasta and a spice sac that’s probably mostly salt, but it was tasty!) and some swiss chard. The swiss chard was tricky. I threw it in a pan with olive oil and salt and pepper but it was missing something. So I added this nice pear-infused vinegar we got from Billy’s dad for Christmas and it really livened it up. And I grilled the chicken to near-perfection and everything ended up tasting really good! I used to be really afraid of cooking but now that I was thrown into the deep end, I learned how to swim! Metaphor booyah!
Anyway, the point is this: Billy needs to see a doctor and I need to not drink a whole bottle of wine by myself, but at least I’m getting better at cooking.