My poor wee hubby is unwell. Very unwell, really. I've never seen the sweet boy so poorly. Luckily, it isn't the flu, as I first suspected, at least not according to the doctor, but whatever it is, chest infection probably, it's screwing with his asthma which freaks me right out.
He's under there somewhere.
I hate that he's sick during Christmas. He got a one week sick line so he won't be at work this week, which is just as well. I hope he feels well enough to enjoy his Christmas dinner tomorrow. We managed to go out last night to a friend's house, but we had to leave quite early because the poor darling wasn't feeling well. He slept through church this morning, but for once I didn't give him a guilt trip over it. He really wasn't well enough to be there.
But - I was, and I went dressed like Santa Claus. Even though Santa mixed up spells Satan.
(I couldn't cover my cute pigtails with a hat though, so that's why the black head scarf. It wasn't part of the festive outfit. The green eyeshadow was. And I wasn't really trying to look like Santa Claus; just wanted to be Christmasy.)
Merry Christmas all. Hope you all wake up to the smell of chocolate gravy in the morning, like my man will be.
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