Married to a Moron?

If I were so inclined, I could devote this space to a full-throated, play by play description of the respiratory battle going on inside my sinuses and lungs. I could describe the various medicines and therapies I have employed against the forces of evil arrayed against me. I could paint for you disturbing mental images of the shocking substance and unworldly color of what I have begun to cough up over the past 24 hours. But I will restrain myself, and spare you the details.

Instead, I will just say that unfortunately, my sainted wife seems to have come down with something very similar despite our best efforts at quarantine and copious amounts of hand sanitizer. The good news is that I feel terrific this morning, for the first time in 4 days. My schedule today is dominated by a Charity golf tournament event which according to the Doppler radar, might end up being played in a steady rain, probably not the ideal way to spend my first day back after battling the FluFromHell. Matter of fact, I’m rather sure that Pam is going to flip out when she reads this. “Seriously honey? You are seriously going to go play golf in a driving rain all day as sick as you’ve been for three days?? Moron. I am married to a moron.”

“No, no honey, you don’t understand. Being outside in the fresh air will actually be good for me. And I’m sure if it starts raining really hard they will call it off. Besides, think of the children! All the proceeds go to poor inner city kids so they can benefit from the First Tee program.”

“Great! By all means, let’s teach poor inner city kids how to play golf, so they can become morons too.”

Actually, Pam won’t say any of these things. She will probably be too weak to make the arguments, and I will be gone by the time she reads this. But I will be able to feel the power of her eye-roll and heavy sigh from miles away.