I have not been a pleasant person to live with.

The winter chills caught me unexpectedly and for the past week I’ve been drinking Dayquil. It must have been from the late walks home from school, even though I wore hats, scarves, Oma’s thick socks, and a marshmallow green coat.

If you’ve seen me when I don’t feel good, you know I turn into the biggest pouter of all time. Spencer has babied me to the max–from grabbing tissues and orange juice in the middle of the night to carrying me from room to room.

Last night Spencer slept on the couch because my breathing sounded like Darth Vader and even if you’re Spencer, who has mastered all Star Wars knowledge and has an obsession with Sith Lords, the sound of Darth Vader sleeping next to you is unsettling.

I didn’t notice until 3:30 in the morning when I woke up abruptly from hearing a loud snore (my own snore) and realized that Spencer was not in the room. I crawled my way out of the bed, shuffled toward the living room, and stood over Spencer, who was sleeping on the couch. Because I was still half asleep, I couldn’t find words to ask him why he was on the couch, so I poked him.

“What?” he groaned.

“Why are you here?”

“Cause you snore like Darth Vader. I recorded it.”

Last Friday I thought the sickness was over, but a splitting headache surprised me. I had an emotional breakdown as it seemed like my life was turning into a never-ending cold. I got in the shower and cry cry cried.

I rubbed my eyes and looked up to see Spencer’s face peeking into the shower.

I screamed.

“What?! Did I do something?” Spencer said.

I cried harder. “I thought you were a zombie!” Cry Cry Cry.

Spencer shook his head and closed the shower curtain. “I was just making sure you were okay.”

Too much Walking Dead, anyone?

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