I’ve been sick all weekend. Yeah, it sucks a lot. I don’t usually get sick, but on Friday, I could not get warm after our brisk walk outside in the windy night. I was wearing my white North Face fleece – turns out it isn’t as warm as some people say it is (it was my second time ever wearing it).
Robby (don’t remember him? Click the page on the upper right-hand side) and I got back and popped in the X2 DVD to continue watching the entire X-Men trilogy (not counting the extra film about Wolverine). I could not get warm for the life of me. I covered up with one blanket and had The Human Furnace holding my legs (aka Robby). You’d think I’d be snug as a bug in a rug; but I wasn’t. The fireplace was turned on (we just push a button), another blanket was put on top of my shivering body, and Robby shed his hoodie so that I could wear it. None of it worked.
Long story short, I spent the weekend waking up covered with sweat, running to the bathroom, and eating Jell-O and popsicles. I never said it would be pretty.
The thing that worried me the most is that Robby’s and my anniversary is today. Yep, we’ve been together for one whole year. We had plans to stay in, cook filet mignon and eat a romantic dinner together. The point was to imitate one of those overpriced fancy restaurants that serve tiny portions. My worry was that I would not be well enough to cook said dinner. Yesterday, I had a fever of 103.8 and things were not looking too great. Robby assured me that it would be okay if we did not follow through with our plans, but I was determined to make it work. I didn’t want us to look back on our anniversary to see that we didn’t do what we had originally planned. (And postponing it would have been awful!)
So, I made the filet mignon. We took one of the steaks and cut it in half and each of us got a half. The portions were tiny and everything was perfect. My mom set up the dining room table to look extra-special and everything was all set. I whipped up a quick salad and when he arrived, we sat down to eat.
We ended up only eating the filet mignon steaks. I discovered – after peeking into the refrigerator – that we had no Italian dressing (which is the type we prefer). The steak was good, the portion was miniscule, and the person I shared it with makes me the happiest person in the world. Everything went perfectly, even minus the salad.