I have this little habit when I’m on the phone for work.. I pace.
With my foot healing up, I am happily back to pacing through my house as I talk to my team… but there’s certain hazards to doing this when you have a sick Rick Wellman at home.
Usually I make a lap down the hallway, into the kitchen, around the giant gaming table in the Den of Geek, through the living room, and back down the hall. This afternoon, I was on with (teammate who shall remain nameless cause if I do it that way, anyone who talked to me today will wonder if it was them) when I noticed these large, roughly footprint shaped puddles tracked from the front door to the garage door.
Being really focused on the conversation, I stepped around them and went on with my conversation. It was just wrapping up when Rick opened the door.
In t-shirt and jeans, he was completely soaked to the skin and dripping.
And holding his arms out for a hug.
Now, my headset doesn’t have a mute, so it’s not like I could scream, “No, get away from me, you wet germ vector!” But I really, really, REALLY wanted to. I started backing away and he just grinned like the evil brat he is and started duck walking to chase me.
I’m. still. on. the. phone. And still making sense (I hope) in the conversation I was having as I’m now fleeing down the hall to the relative safety of my office. It took another few minutes to wrap up my call before hanging up the phone and screaming, “What the hell was that about?”
Turns out, the mister decided to fix the dripping spigot in the front yard and things went.. kind of awry.
And now I have his cold.
Anyone accepting a sick husband for room and board?
Just kidding. Kind of.
Curiouser and Curiouser 