The reigns of the Gouveia household are firmly — albeit temporarily — in my hands.
Poor MJ has apparently been hit with the Ebola Virus flu and is so sick it’s not even funny. She was up every hour puking and I’m pretty sure her head was spinning around while projectile vomiting green ooze like The Exorcist. In fact, she was throwing up so much that she couldn’t keep any medicine down. Then, around 5 a.m., it happened…
My wife asked for my help.
That’s when I knew how sick she was, because MJ never asks for help. Ever. But here she was, admitting that she needed me to stay home from work because she just couldn’t look after Will herself. She’s currently sleeping with an ice pack on her face in a sweaty tangle of blanets, alternating between being too hot and too cold. And since my parents and her parents are busy, I’m banging in sick from work.
So, this is the marital equivalent of being called up to the majors. MJ has gone on the injured reserve list and I’m expected to fill in in her absence. I feel like Matt Cassel taking over for Tom Brady, which apparently means I’m going to do a great job, guide my team to an 11-5 record and NOT make the playoffs because Brett Favre and the motherfucking New York Jets are a bunch of incompetent ninnies who couldn’t beat the Dolphins yesterday, making the Patriots the only team to go 11-5 and not make the playoffs since the ’85 Broncos!!! Sorry…I’m a little bitter that I won’t be watching the Patriots in the playoffs for the first time in 6 seasons. Anyways…
It’s not taking care of Will I’m worried about. It’s the household stuff. The dishes, the laundry, folding the laundry, cleaning, making lunch, cooking dinner…that’s the crap I really hate. MJ isn’t out of commission often, but when she does go down I always gain a renewed appreciation for how she makes this family tick.
Today will be one of those days.