Last night, I slept in our bed.
Normally, of course, that's not unusual. It's just that I've been hacking up a lung for like the last week, and whenever I lie down my lungs think that's a cue for them to start acting up. So, I banished myself to the couch, because I didn't want to keep Paul awake.
The first night, I think Paul was worried. He came out in the morning looking all concerned and was like, "did I say something?", and I responded by promptly coughing up approximately six and a half tons of phlegm.
Yuck.
And yesterday was Paul's birthday and I thought what would be a better birthday present than a good night's sleep?
See, I'm not the best sleeper even when I'm not infected. You know when you watch romantic comedies and there's that shot where the dude sees the girl sleeping and she looks all angelic?
Well, I am not that girl.
I am an Ugly Sleeper. Really. First, I like to wedge myself directly underneath Paul, after which I proceed to drool, grind my teeth, and mutter weird things in a strangely high-pitched voice. Ugly. Add constant coughing and, well.....
I just didn't want to go there. Even I have my limits.
Yesterday morning Paul woke me up, and I wiped the drool off my face and shouted HAPPY BIRTHDAY, and Paul smiled at me.
"You can sleep in bed, you know," he said. "I'll just get earplugs."
And I thought, that's a beautiful moment we just had. Marriage is all about compromise. Also earplugs.
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