Tale of the Gym Rat and Hybernol Harry-and a shout out to little bruce lee

So apparently the Mister is down for the count.
Poor poor buddy. Fever is 101 again today and he is in bed imitating the hybernol spoof from the days of Chris Farley on SNL. I've never seen him like this! You normally can't force that guy out of the office and the past couple of days he's been calling me asking for this and that-orange juice, emergen-c, a hug, some water, the thermometer...ah boy. I can't hardly stand it knowing all those germs are in the air.
This morning he faked me out. He got up and dressed and attempted to work. I was flying around the house like a mad woman, ripping off sheets and febreezing in a frenzy to get the sickness feeling out of our house. anyway, an hour into it i got the text. "im sick". before you could say lysol i was out the door and off to the gym. got to keep myself moving so i don't fall into the sitting on the couch with sick boy scam. the texts continued as i worked up a sweat on the stairmaster "i need oj" etc. poor guy.
by the time i came home and left him again (fully supplied with meds, oj and soup of course) for work he was back where he started-in bed (a clean bed mind you as i pulled the superwoman cleaning job first thing this morning)-covers pulled over his sick little head. until he's 100% i'm going to work my speed cleaning magic to make sure it doesn't recycle BACK to me where it started! contrary to the 8 year old mind, being sick at home in bed is just no fun at all.
So...I watched American Idol last night. one word. pathetic. it was just absolutely terrible. every single singer just tortured me. I'm hoping they can pull it together and start making it entertaining again or i'll have to peace out. not that i really need to be watching ai every five seconds, but it is usually a pretty good show.
with that said, i'll stop torturing all of YOU and end this post.
A BIG FAT SHOUT OUT TO MY LITTLE BRO. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRUCE. YOU DOMINATE.
xoxoxxo
mo