A few weeks ago, Munchkin had a stomach flu. He came, he saw, he puked on just about every surface in the house. But he was generally pretty happy and remembered to say "please" when asking for juice.
But yesterday, my husband had his wisdom teeth removed. Since then, he has lain around in a stupor and made it a point to tell me how miserable he is when I walk by. You know, right after he asks me to get him something, clean up something or fluff his goddamn pillow.
A few hours ago, I had to run out the door to get Munchkin to his therapy appointment. And so I asked my ailing husband to change the laundry. You would have thought I was asking him to run the Boston Marathon. He pouted, he whined, he reminded me of how much pain he was in.
I frickin' did the laundry a few days after I gave birth. I have no pity for him at all.
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