This week, Babyboo and I lived, not as if we were married but more like ad hoc roommates put together in a dirty, European hostel. It was as if we were like strangers who were suspicious that each would steal from one another but our marriage has not been any stronger than it is now. She fell sick with the flu on Monday and I asked her if her flu was of the 'oink, oink' variety. Apparently, her doctor did not say but suspiciously gave her Tamiflu to snort. So, out of love (for myself), I immediately segregated our apartment into two section; the living room became my 'healthy' zone where I slept on an Aero bed and lived like I was in college, while Babyboo was quarantined to the bedroom where the diseased lepers were to go.
I moved a lot of my clothes that I needed for the week into my living room 'dorm' space, and it piled together into a mountain topography forming my 'man cave', if you will, across the sofa and onto the television. The construction of the beautiful mess was strong and was often propped up by stacks of takeout and pizza boxes. Maybe some of my shirts were ruined because a sleeve congealed with leftover pizza but with the boss debilitated, I could do whatever I wanted in my own man'tasy land. All I needed was a large keg to complete the picture and it would be like college or the 'Old School' frat party that I had at my place with the Dudes on the Upper West again.
In the rare times that I did see her, Babyboo's nose was so red like Rudolph's and was so extremely runny like eggs that I wish I had toast to sop it all up. Attractive as she was with huge mounds of tissue stuffed up her nostrils, I kept at least an arms length away and patted her head to show my affection and kissed the air around her rather than her germy cheeks. Maybe I was a little paranoid but I created a make-shift SARS mask with a scarf to talk to her even though most of our conversations were through the door. Like a prison guard, I would leave food at the base of the door and then ask her to not open the door until I was a safe distance away just in case a toxic cloud suffocated me. After all my Babyboo encounters, even after phone calls with her, I would Purell myself all over liberally. She knows I love her though; I mean, I put a Post-It on the bathroom mirror telling her so (I also ordered her to wipe down everything she touches..eww..but the love part was first).
So, this may all sound very obsessive compulsive and horrible and it is but it has worked thus far and I feel great. She is doing much better and I may enter back into the war zone bedroom this weekend. One positive though is that my experience living outside in the living room this week was not all that bad such that I am more optimistic and prepared for when I get put in the dog house, which will definitely happen and probably soon.