Anyhow, I've been busy, as I always tell you. But I have a very legitimate excuse (as I always do): I've been away in Paris. I spent a lovely holiday with both my family and B.'s family. I'm always amazed by how wonderful it can be to just do simple things with the man that I love. Eat breakfast. Go to the movies. Go grocery shopping. Clean an apartment.
But blissful as I may make our holidays sound, the reality is that for two days that we were together, I was truly, horribly sick. I mean the kind of sick where I was sitting on the floor, unable to keep food or water down, and his brother and sister had to go out on Christmas morning to find a pharmacy that was open in order to buy me medicine.
Yet, even though I have never been so miserable in my life, it was also so nice to be taken care of by him. He was wonderful to me. I kept apologizing for being sick, and he stopped me at some point and told me, "I don't want to choose just the good moments. I am your partner."
It is those moments that I realize how lucky I am. I know that with B., I will be taken care of. I have someone who will hold back my hair, sit on the floor with me, and hand me toilet paper to use as tissues when I need it. I have someone who will make me tea, heat up soup for me when my appetite returns, and carry me up the stairs when I'm too tired and in too much pain to do it alone. I know that he will be there when I am at my worst, my least attractive, and my most vulnerable. And for all this, I love him.
Of course, the way life is, in return for all his sweetness, I gave him my virus, and then he was horribly ill, but the point of this story is that what we have is great, germs and all.
As for any food news, before you know it, B. will be here again (long distance love is all about counting down the days in between seeing one another). Hopefully, there will be no more germs and no more stories about sickness in the near future.
Happy belated new year, to all my readers. Here's to hoping 2013 is even better than 2012!