Friday, October 23, 2009

“They’re right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous.”

Mr. F. is sick with the flu. I don’t necessarily blame him for this as the flu has gained epidemic status at his place of work with at least twelve people from his department alone succumbing to the disease. What I am not too pleased about is that in a fit of gallantry and self-preservation of his gene pool, Mr. F. has imposed a quarantine upon himself which means I am not allowed in the same room as him for any length of time. Rationally, this makes sense. I have no desire to be pregnant AND miserably sick with the flu. I especially do not relish the return of any nausea and vomiting, having just recovered from two-three months of those symptoms. However, logic and feelings are two separate bedfellows and against my better judgment, I find myself wanting to smother Mr. F. with kisses, hug him until he bruises, and find a way to stuff him in my pocket so that I can carry him around with me 24/7. In fact, I seem to be MORE attracted to Mr. F. now, when he possesses the greatest threat to me. Could it be because he has finally reached the Dangerous status?

Edward Cullen: I'm a killer.
Isabella Swan: I don't believe that.
Edward Cullen: That's because you believe only the lies... the camouflage. I'm the world's most dangerous predator, Bella. Everything about me invites you in. My voice, my face, even my smell. As if I would need any of that... as if you could out run me... as if you could fight me off. I'm designed to kill.
Isabella Swan: I don't care.
Edward Cullen: I've killed people before.
Isabella Swan: It does not matter.
Edward Cullen: I wanted to kill you at first. I've never wanted a human's blood so much, before.
Isabella Swan: I trust you.
Edward Cullen: Don't.

That’s right. It appears that I am living my own little Twilight Saga here. Everything about Mr. F.’s current condition from his sick, woebegone face to his deep, manly voice seems to "invite me in.” I find myself relating to insipid Bella Swan and not caring that his breath and touch could kill me (or at least lay me low for a couple of weeks.) I ask you dear readers (since following Bella’s example will only get me into trouble), how do I fight the lure and save my immortal soul?


yola said...

Omg, I can't believe I just read that. I'll pretend there are no allusions to Twilight in this post, and it's just the new mother hormones kicking it wild. Dear Mr. F, feel better! And Dear Mrs. F, I hope you find better reading material to fill the space of your confinement from your other half. ;)

Lady Susan said...

Bwaahaaahaahaa! I know. A bit over the top. But I couldn't resist. ;)

Wild Rose said...

I had the same thoughts as Yola. Really, must you quote Stephanie Meyer? We are surrounded by the Twilight phenomenon out here, and I can't even read what should be safe blogs without coming across it now. ;-)

hope that Mr F feels better soon. Have you gotten the H1N1 vaccine yet?

Hizzeather said...

Ok, I just LOVE this post! You are hilarious! :D

Janssen said...

Oh man, this is so so funny. Off to share this :)

Angela Noelle said...

You can't fight have to give in. Sickly husbands ooze pity juice and we drink it in like liqueur...only, if you're a Mormon, we obstain for that, so I guess we drink it in like smoothies...or whatever floats your boat. I'm exactly the same when my Prince Charming falls ill - even a hint of a sniffle and it's as though he's playing hard to get and I feel he must be got!

P.S. Found ya 'cause Janssen shared you.

Washington Hills said...

Lady Susan, I am officially your groupie after reading this post. If I could grow up to be you. THiS ROCKED.


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