Last night Mr. Moon started sounding stopped up and sniffly. "I think the pollen is finally getting to me," he said.
"I think the flu is finally getting to you," I told him.
So yes he has it too but it's such a light version. Of course, while I'm staying in the house and hardly doing a damn thing, he's planting tomatoes and peppers and hauling a boat to be repaired to St. Marks, and oh yeah, now he's mowing.
Women often complain about how wimpy their men are when they get the slightest cold but I have to say that I wish my husband was a little wimpier about being sick. He just refuses to acknowledge it unless it literally knocks him out. Which makes me feel so guilty. I do not feel terrible and I absolutely could do more than I'm doing but I don't want to. For one thing, I refuse to go work outside in 89 degree heat. Forget it. I have done the things around the house that need doing but that's hardly anything.
Ah well. He is who he is and I am who I am and he is not sidelined by a puny little illness and I use it as an excuse to sit around and do a jigsaw puzzle. Tomorrow I will be back at it, though, as I have to go to town to get my permanent crown put on and I'll stop by the grocery store, of course because god knows I can't pass a Publix without stopping.
My potential crow-friend stopped by today, perched, and observed me for awhile.
I feel particularly useless today. I worked on the jigsaw puzzle and believe it or not, each one of those tiny bees (I guess they're bees) on the border of the puzzle are different and many of them are now in the correct place, marching around the edges, but some are not. I am not a visual person. Never have been. Not in a detailed identifying way, at least. So this is hard for me.