Feeling Better

Sam says now that he'd got a sore throat and he is blaming me for giving it to him. Well, I guess, there isn't too much I can say.

Sam hasn't been cleaning up the kitchen each day I have been in bed sick. So, I have been doing it when I get up in the morning.

He got up this morning catching me herumphing about the kitchen not being cleaned up.

(Remember, Sam cooks, and I clean)

"You could have cleaned up the kitchen while I was sick," I said.

"What? You want me to cook and clean and look after you as well?"

He'd already told me he had a sore throat, so as quick as I flash, I thought about what I was saying, and going purely with the logic I was currently pursuing, it would mean if Sam was sick, I would have to cook, and I didn't want to be doing that, no siree. 

"No, you are right," I said. I hoped my sudden about turn wouldn't be too obvious.

Sam had looked after me, bringing me honey, ginger and lemon drinks at regular intervals, directly to me in bed. So, as it was, he had sick credits built up that I would have no choice but to live up to.

I did go to the chemist and get the throat gargle, I guess.

Of course, the dishes he did  put in the dishwasher were all wrong and I had to completely repack it for my own sanity.