Dearest husband,
I’m sorry you’re sick and feel like you are hacking up a lung every couple minutes. (*By the way, this picture isn't actually candid. That'd be gross. Just one of the many faces he likes to pull out when I say cheese... model behavior everybody!)
But I must confess, it sure has been fun babying you. Making tea with lots of honey. Bullying you to take your pills. Making sure you’re always bundled up in our fareeeeezing apartment. Soup and more soup. And who can forget your irresistible, deep voice that sounds just like John Wayne. Oooo baby, sing to me one more time!
Too bad in a couple weeks I will probably be very angry with you and you will be the one babying/bullying me. Because I’m not very good at keeping our water bottles separate. And I’m really bad at not kissing you. Even when you start hacking in the middle of it. Mmmmmmmm, yum. I’m just praying this immune system of mine will stay as strong as I brag it is. Besides, I don’t think I’ll sound as good with a John Wayne voice- you get me vern?
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