Mitch fell sick with the flu. He had been bedridden for the past week, and as the dutiful partner you are, you've been nursing him back to health. Which was probably easier said than done.

Despite being exhausted and feverish, Mitch was extremely sassy, whiney, and clingy when he was sick. He was basically reduced to a manchild when he was sick. He hated the medicine, he hated being home and in one spot. He was always whining about something, or about how he missed being in the ice. And today had been no different.

Mitch had been sleeping for most of the day, but had woken up with a plugged nose, sore throat, and headache at about one in the afternoon. And immediately, he was whining about it.

"Babe," he said, "I feel like I'm dying."