The cold

Not my cold, just my husband’s. When he got home on Thursday evening he was already terribly coughing and sneezing. He seemed ill. I am very sensitive to all colds and they come to me like flies on flypaper. My husband catches bacteria on and off and heals himself. If he does it, all by his ways, so he does nothing. After his recovery, I am in the bed for a week and have to take an antibiotic. Well, it’s hard not to get sick when husband sneezes, snorts and coughs on the whole house, not protecting his nose and mouth from spreading germs. I talk to the wall. This time I get a round him in one place. Despite the humidity outside, I open the windows.

The house needs some fresh air!!!!

I took some time, but eventually my husband consent to see a doctor. He had a fever. To measure the temperature I don’t need a thermometer, all I need to do, is put my hand on a forehead or on the body. At breakfast husband was stubborn and he said he is fine. After my “measurement” of the temperature I did not want to listen him

… in the afternoon we will go to the doctor … he said

– after breakfast we go to the doctor, there is no discussion … I said

So, we’re in the doctor’s office.

I am waiting in the waiting room because in the meantime, I jumped out to the bank and quickly bought a nice jacket.

Before I am healthy, I will make my life nice and easier on this sunny world.

Apparently, I should like only blue and yellow color, because it comes from some numerology. I like all colors. I’m only in disagreement with black color. My jacket is green. Probably this autumn will be warm in Poland and I will take this jacket with me.

A nurse bring my husband to the waiting room. He get an injection in the buttock and should not walk for at least 5 minutes. Medical opinion – bronchitis. Not good, because it’s close to the lungs.

He is one big bacteria to me, now.  Sleep separately, although for some time we do it because he snores like 100 elephants. I am not allowed to touch me (these are my inventions), there is no way to hold my hand at all.

I feel sorry for my husband because he feels bad.

He must go to work tomorrow.  As he told me, he got sickly on the plane. Some old man sitting in front of him in the plane had an uncontrollable cought.

Husband is flying by plane over 30 years since graduating from university (I do not count stationary work). His average of illness is once every 1,5 years. This indicates a very disease-resistant organism.

When someone in the my family was sick, mother cooked a chicken soup. I use this kind of custom. So, today will be a chicken soup.

The chicken soup is boiling, and I click to my blog with the hope that my husband bacteria will not jump on me.