So on Friday night, P.J. had an awesome Date Night planned for us. It was a surprise n’ everything. (For the newcomers, P.J.’s Christmas present to me was a year of cool date nights, highlighting and celebrating everything we say we love about living in Chicago…but somehow never find time to do.)
The date he had chosen for June was an evening at Hollywood Beach. (It’s a really, really nice beach traditionally frequented by a largely gay population- meaning that it’s clean and super pretty. Plus, on Pride Weekend? Can’t go wrong. For real.) We were gonna picnic under the stars and watch a screening of Funny Girl.
When he revealed his big date plans, I almost cried.
Half outta regret, half out of delirium.
Because unfortunately, I had woken up on Friday morning at 4am the sickest I’ve ever been in the history of ever. (This includes food poisoning, various flus, c-section recoveries, and lost weekends in college.) For about 25 hours I believed I had horrific food poisoning/early onset death. I was almost admitted to the E.R. for baby-related checkups and rehydration- but thankfully the E.R. gods deemed two emergency room trips in under a week rather cruel and unusual.
So why 25 hours? Oh, because at 5am the next morning, the rest of the family fell victim to the plague as well. Imagine Florence Nightingale tending to her patients while dragging her lame leg behind her, vomiting profusely, and weeping like a Dickensian child. That’s what Saturday looked like.
(PSA: The norovirus is real, terrifying, and enough to make you consider placing bleach directly into your ocular cavities.)
Long story semi-short, we cancelled our sitter, our date, and our 6th wedding anniversary.
However, by Sunday night we were feeling loads better. (Fatigued and drained, sure, but keeping our bodily fluids exactly where they oughta be, thankyouverymuch.) So Peej- my awesome, non-grossed out guy- prepared our picnic and movie screening.
On a blanket on the playroom floor.
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| Picnicking on the floor is not only romantic, its also safer. ‘Cause if we pass out, we’re already on the floor. |
We watched the first half of Romance & Cigarettes– before deeming it rather Not Good- and then turned on an episode of The Twilight Zone. (Much better.)
And yeah, sure, we fell asleep ten minutes in…but at least we were holding hands.
And when I crawled up to bed, I found that my date had laundered and re-made the bed, prepping me for my first good night’s sleep since Thursday.
Romance is most decidedly not dead.
Even though the norovirus sure tried.
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