I take care of a recuperating wife as well as the next guy. As long as the next guy isn't me.
KIM: What if I have a concussion? My thoughts are all awry and I'm all discombobulated while I lay here. What if I have brain damage?
ME: Not a chance. Listen to yourself.
KIM: What?
ME: Your vocabulary is top notch. "Awry"? "Discombobulated"? Your beautiful brain cells are working at full power.
KIM: Oh, good.
<silence>
ME: Although, you did say "lay" instead of "lie," so--
KIM: Fuck off.
ME: So you still have that going--
KIM: Fuck you.
KIM: Look, I don't want to be a burden.
ME: Not possible.
KIM: I need you to go up and down the stairs for me. Maybe several times in a row.
ME: No problem. Whatever you need.
KIM: Are you willing to go to the store and get me soup, bras and scrunchies and other emasculating purchases?
ME: Just try to stop me.
KIM: Will you get me pillows and put socks on my feet?
ME: Like they were my own feet, I will.
KIM: You are the best.
<silence>
KIM: Oh, and can you cook a meal for--
ME: God. This is so like you. You're nagging me! I can't do this. I need space. It's not you, it's me. <storms out of the house>
KIM: They gave me some pretty good dope. Good thing I have self discipline and can ration out mood- and consciousness-altering drugs.
ME: I can't respect someone without self control. <swigs from hooch jug and Pez dispenser>
<judgmental silence>
ME: What?
