Best. Roommate. Ever.

I’ve been sick as hell the last two days.  Between now and when I’m well if anybody even hints to me that germs are intelligently designed, they’re going to earn themselves and god a punch in the face.

My throat has been trying to mutiny this entire time and Cambridge, swell roommate that she is, has been taking care of me.  She made me breakfast and washed my dishes.  I’ve been trying to express my gratitude, but when I try to make noise the evil in my throat creates searing pain and the sound that escapes is little more than a whisper.  So when I try to say something like “Thanks Cambridge!” I wind up sitting there in a ball of hurt looking smug and not grateful.

The other thing she’s been doing is making me tea with honey, which fights back the evil.  I confessed to her the other day that I don’t know how to make tea.  I’ve never made it, only scarcely have I ever drank it.  I’m sure it’s simple, I just don’t know the steps.

This was on our refrigerator when I went downstairs today.

I swear, there’s not a man on this planet good enough for her.

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