I Feel Your Pain, Kelly

Yesterday morning, I was watching the opening dialogue of Live With Regis and Kelly.

I was watching because I was sick. Saturday night I came down with a serious head cold, and my nose was running more than I have in the past three months combined.

Sunday was a fog of stuffiness, blowing my nose, coughing and sneezing, but all the while I still tackled my "to do" list: I went to the grocery store, (met Jenelle for lunch!!!), cleaned the breakfast dishes, did four loads of laundry including the folding and putting away, wrapped Christmas presents, made myself chicken and vegetable soup, and cleaned up after it.

When I woke up Monday morning still in a fog and unable to breath through my nose, I skipped my workout (that should tell you something), and curled up on the couch with a blanket, dreaming of a warm cup of tea that seemed just. out. of. reach.

On television, Kelly was telling Regis that after a few weeks of having pain in her foot, she finally went to a doctor, and was diagnosed with a stress fracture. This means no working out and no high heels, and I felt her upset-ness on both fronts.

Then Regis launches into a story about opening up a package shipped to him over the weekend, and cutting his hand with the box cutter. In his over-the-top way, he described the bleeding and the wrapping and the drive to the hospital, the wait in the emergency room, the shot of the pain killer and the ... two stitches.

Kelly looks at him for about four seconds then says, very seriously, "I can't just have a day, can I? There can't be a day where I have something wrong or better than you? If I go to a restaurant, you've gone to a better one. A show? You went to a newer one. A stress fracture in my foot? You need to go to the hospital, too."

As Kelly finishes her tirade, a call for me comes from upstairs.

Mike is still home, you see. He went to the Steelers/ Ravens game on Sunday night and didn't get home until 1 a.m. He also arrived home very, very drunk.

He is calling to me from a laying position on the hallway floor, because he just couldn't make it the rest of the way to the stairs. His head hurts. His stomach is nauseous. He has the sweats.

He's hung over.

He needs me to get him something to drink. Fresh clothes to change into. To send an email that he'll be out of the office that morning. Read the emails that have been sent to him so far this morning. Because it's all just too much to handle on his own.

When I finally have him hydrated and clean and tucked back under the covers, I go back downstairs.

And continued to empathize with Kelly.