Bad Case Of Loving You - Robert Palmer

"Look Boss, ze bug, ze bug!" says Hubby's Intestinal Lining.



Flu bug that is.

Hubby arrived home from the grocery store with a bottle of Pepto Bismo in hand saying, "I don't feel so good."

"Don't we already have Pepto Bismo?" I ask.

"I couldn't wait until I got home to take it," says Hubby, taking a swig.

He's been doing Pepto shots all night. It doesn't seem to be working either. I can tell every time he sprints to the toilet.

Poor guy even refused my homemade chicken broth. Wait, is it still homemade if I didn't cook the chicken? Probably at least 50% percent, right?

"Ewwwwwwwwwww," moans Hubby.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuugh," Hubby carries on.

It's going to be a looooooong one. It's nights like these I wish I had figured out that spare bedroom thingamabob I've been envisioning. I may have to settle for the couch.