My house is infected

When I came home from my beach vacation I opened the door and I was greeted with the smell. The smell of my house, that distinctive smell that lets you know you are in the right place, the place where you can kick off you shoes, pick you nose, otherwise do whatever it is that you do in the comforts of your home. Little did I know there was something lurking.

You see there was a virus lurking beneath and both Coleman and I were infected immediately. At the beach I was washing clothes, making breakfast, and fixing Coleman's plate for him. Heck, I even game Em several baths. These things are all few and far between at home. Why? I would like to know the answer to that myself. A combination of my laziness and Coleman's desire to placate me I suppose. Well, when we came home it was business as usual. Coleman asking me what I wanted for dinner, putting laundry in the wash, waiting on Em at every beckon call. I asked him why he was doing it and he said it was because my hip is hurting horribly and I have to work tomorrow. Okay, we can do this dance for a few days, but this virus is only going to be the 48 hr kind. I am not going back to having him wait on me hand and foot. I am fully capable of running this ship, I think.