I was wrong.
I admit it.
It's not The Man Cold.
He's ill.
I'm an ass.
But I'm not really.
Only my venting voice is.
I still did all the caring.
Expressed all the empathy.
I stopped at the pharmacy on the way home from work.
And purchased the last bottle of cold/flu syrup off the shelf.
Which is scary as hell.
What is happening with the world?
And I stopped at the grocery
to pick up all the things
to
come home from work
to make a big pot of soup.
Because that is what he actually requested for dinner.
For the first time ever.
I mean EVER.
I am the soup lover in this family.
That is not a meal to him.
But tonight it is.
Which is a huge indicator that he is really ill.
This is more then the Man Cold affliction.
But I am excited to be having soup for dinner.
I hope he's feeling better soon.