Last evening DH and I went to see the local theatre's rendition of Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest. We both agreed it was he best performance we've seen here. After returning home DH complained of heartburn, something he rarely suffers from. He took some Tums and headed off to bed. About an hour later he had the thermometer in his mouth. He took some aspirin for his fever and asked for extra blankets in an attempt to stop shivering with cold. 30 minutes later he was in the garage searching for the bucket which he used about 20 minutes after that. Poor DH. Upon hearing of his ill health, my first uncharitable thought was that we would not be able to visit my mother and sister today, as planned. My second uncharitable thought was that I could now show him the lack of care he bestowed on me when I was sick but I can't do it. I've been tip toeing around the house so he can sleep. Every time I hear him get up I'm Johnny-on-the-spot to ask if he needs anything. I made him a piece of toast for breakfast. My third uncharitable thought is that I'm hoping this is just a 24 hour bug. Poor me.