WRITE TO ME! firstname.lastname@example.org Come see me! Open studio HERE! November 25-26 (11-4 each day); Aurora Art and Design, daily until 12/24; Cooperstown Art Assoc. daily until 12/24; Ellis Hollow Community Fair, 12/10; December 10, Little Red Wagon at the Space at Greenstar. All material on this blog unless stated otherwise is copyright Gary Edward Rith 2016
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
It is all HER fault
This morning I am sitting there at the table, the usual feverish, runny nosed self, and the wife tells me:
"when you were snoring last night, I didn't poke you" and she seems pleased with herself.
And I am like
"I snored????" and she is like "well, sorta UCK, nuck sounding..." and I am like
"oh, heavy breathing?" and she is like "no, snoring, but I didn't wake you!" and I am like "well, I poked YOU when you were snoring" and she is like "I know" and she gives me this superior look and says "more than once".
She is a better human being than me, but she KNOWS she is the one responsible for this cold, and so she wrote this:
So, I gave Gary a bad cold and I really didn’t mean to and, geez, if I had realized what I had done, believe me I wouldn’t have done it, not for one little minute. I mean, I was sick and I was out for two days from work and my big accomplishment? Filing my nails. And that was on the second day when I was feeling better. And here was my hero, showing up at my bedside every now and then plying me with meals and hot beverages and such so I could keep up my strength.
The problem with being a potter and working every day is that, well, you work every day. So I had skipped off to work, granted a little wan and turtleneck clad, and my poor schweetheart succumbed to all of this awfulness. But there is no one to tempt him with treats and meals and coffee to separate the waking and moaning from the sleeping and groaning. And every time a dog needed to go out he had to get up (he did not get up every time a cat claimed to be hungry). Which is often enough, even if they did come right back in and return to being heater woobies. And then it’s back to making and trimming and finishing pots and working until your hands freeze and resting until they thaw and back again. See how long it would take to get better after those harsh conditions?
Next time I get sick I’ll be banished to a separate room with a narrow bed and all my meals will be slid under the door. With luck they will be quite flat. And no cat or dog will be able to comfort me because I’ll have germs and can’t get them on the animals to get on Gary. Oh, how awful! How soon is spring?
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