Big Baby

Last night my husband's fever got worse. A lot worse. In fact, it was so bad I almost took him to the emergency room.

105.4

Mm hm.

I threw him in the bathtub filled with icy cold water and told him to go all the way under and stay there (he whined, moaned, groaned and complained all the way down... "It's cold!" "Of course it is, we need to get your fever down and quick. And take these two aspirin and two Tylenol." "I'll die of an overdose!" "Of course you won't, you big baby. They work in different ways. You can take 'em together. And you'll die of a fever if you don't.").

Then, I made a near-midnight trip to the pharmacy and bought a thermometer. You see... we'd been using our meat thermometer.

I was very afraid he'd faint of the fever while I was gone and drown in the bathwater. I commanded him many times, "if you feel dizzy, GET OUT of the water." Then I worried he'd slip on his way out and get split up the middle. (It's not crazy; I grew up on Mamie tales of a woman she knew of who slipped on her way out of the bathtub and was split right up the middle... I still grip the shower door every time just in case.)

When I got back we took his temperature again with the new thermometer: 101.1.

Phew!! Thank the Lord!

Then we took it again with the meat thermometer: 103.1.

Moral of the story: use meat thermometers for roasts, not husbands. You'll spare yourself a lot of worry.