Another nice thing about a husband ...

Is that when you're buried under a mountain of covers, hair askew, clutching soiled Kleenex and sucking on menthol drops, he arrives home with a small pizza and breadsticks and brings you a glass of ice cold water.

Then, the next day when you're too blah to go to work, he's the one kissing your forehead and feeling your brow for fever while he thinks you're still sound asleep. And he's the reason you're grinning, eyes closed, under all those covers as he pulls the bedroom door closed and goes off to work.