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Gastro spares no one, except my husband it seems.

He, with the cast iron stomach. He, who never gets sick. He, with the irritating ability to never appear hung over the next day. (He who snores while watching movies, then protests that he wasn't even asleep.*) He, who has managed to walk away unscathed while a plague of gastro descended upon our house. Hell hath no fury like gastro.

Really, I wish him no harm, but is there no justice? This is a man who can fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. A man who has such a handle on numbers he can not only remember the product codes at his work, he can also remember all our past phone numbers and probably add them up and find their square root in under a minute. A man who has an inbuilt navigation system and never gets lost.

While I'm the one who is always tossing and turning, looking for the phone number and relying on a map.

But still, in not getting sick he has left himself open to making dinner, bathing and feeding the toddler and sprucing up the garden as we prepare to put our house on the market.

Ahh... I think I'll go have a little lie down and maybe read a little.



(I headed Mama Mogantosh's example and removed my glasses.)

* He is standing by his claim that he wasn't asleep.

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