We're going to the theater, are we crazy?

It's heading for 4pm here in London, and, against my better judgment, we are going out to dinner and the theater this evening. While I'm a bit better, my love is worse, and, I hate that he wants to go out just for my benefit. We're back at the hotel, and, he is taking a shower. He has a fever, and, he isn't going to enjoy this, so, why are we going?

I swear, until the day I die, I will never understand men. They're either totally macho or total wusses when they get sick. I see I have Mr. Macho here. I hear him in there coughing his brains out.

I will write again tomorrow... I love him, but, right now I just wish he'd let himself be sick.