Crabby kids, sick husbands

Woo hoo, it's a fun household tonight.

My husband is sick a lot. He catches any germ in a 25-mile radius and is the world's biggest baby when he's sick. He refuses to speak in a remotely appropriate volume level, choosing instead to barely raise his oh-so-tired voice above a wheezy whisper. So, I make him repeat himself several times becasue I refuse to play that game. He snaps at the kids, horks up disgusting loogies and sucks down Nyquil like it's the world's last bottle of Jack Daniels the day before Prohibition kicks in.

I'm so rarely sick I have no sympathy. I guess it's all in how you were raised. His mom probably babied him as a kid when he was sick. My parents, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less. So I just don't buy it. Having a cold does not entitle you to behaving like a barely functioning mouth-breather.

I suppose I shouldn't be such a hardass but the wallowing and the sniffling and the whining all just raise my hackles like nothing else. God, it's annoying.