And she’s propped up in bed, looking at teh intarwebs, having eaten a burrito for breakfast. I can’t fathom it, but she looked happy. She’s sick as I’ve ever seen her, whooping bronchially and blowing her nose in between, so we’re going to the doctor this afternoon.
Last night I made her a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, and we watched Finding Nemo, and she smiled for the first time in two days. Everyone has their comfort traditions, don’t they? Mine is egg salad sandwich and 7-up, while (as an adult) watching Sex and the City. Come to think of it, before the age of choice, instead of TV, I preferred reading Harlequin romances. So that’s kinda JUST like Sex and the City. What’s your comfort tradition?
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