It happens every month: a new flu or cold cycles it's way through our house. Right at this moment I am sitting here with a fever, aches and pains and enough sinus drainage to remake The Blob.
And it's all my wifes fault.
She's always been susceptable to virus. From the time she was 9 days old, when she almost died from being sick, she's been fighting off one thing or another. She doesn't like being sick... she used to be a professional dancer, is in very good shape, eats much healthier than I do (salads make me run away screaming like a girlie man) and she takes pretty good care of herself.
Usually the kids bring a sniffle home from school. With three kids in grade school, they come into contact with hundreds of bugs. Now the kids don't really get sick... maybe a cough or two, but they fight it off. It's my wife, who picks up whatever bug they've brought home, gets sick immediatley, and incubates the virus for the rest of us to be repeatedly exposed to.
Not that I'm complaining about how I get exposed. My wife is quite a fun person. Wink-wink nudge-nudge say no more. You catch my drift.
So then I get the virus full blown, and of course we spread it to the kids. It's the same every month, almost like clockwork. So I've decided to get rid of my wife.
I love her dearly, make no mistake, I'm just tired of being sick. Shes my best friend and wonderfully easy to get along with. When I told her about it she just kissed me on the cheek and said, "Thats nice dear". I told you she was easy to get along with.
The question is how. I really don't want to do the sealed bubble thing. Encasing her in an oxygen filled plastic bubble is a little creepy, and the temptation to break the seal would be there, always at the back of my mind. Like I said, I love my wife, and she can be quite fun.
Perhaps I need to hire a hitman, in honor of her Italian heritage. Her mother's maiden name is Confalone... the same Confalones that have a town square in Sicily named after them. Eerily reminiscant of the Godfather if you ask me. Concrete boots would be a fitting end for my noble wife, but then I'd have to break my promise of having her body taken to a taxidermist when she passes on. Don't ask, it's a running joke between the two of us, or at least SHE thinks it's a running joke.
Maybe poison would do the trick... but with todays advances in toxicology I'd probably get busted for that. I just don't have the know how of what constitutes a good poison.
I don't know, I'll have to think on it some more. My wife is mumbling about cooking me dinner while rummaging around in the cleaning pantry. Something about "He wont taste a thing...".
She's so sweet, always thinking of me like that...