on time

I've been full of phlegm these days, which I will willfully ascribe to the season and nothing more. It feels more like I live in a basement this week. We keep waking to crickets in the room or mystery bugs swooping at our faces. I trust they are not muscular spiders, which I like, as long as they are at least five feet from my face.
My husband has been busy. He's been remarkable. He keeps up with school and work and his band and doesn't fall apart. I fall apart on his behalf sometimes, but I'm getting used to and kind of really liking being the S technician. I keep him in clean clothes and make sure he comes to bed on time and feed him what he needs to eat and encourage him into a good rhythm and relish the small moments of time we do have together. I have to remind myself not to ooze with the sort of achy neediness that I know will (always) elicit a guilty response from him. It's not fair. He's doing what he needs to do. He needs to be a nurse. I need to be a support system. That kind of need. We'll be ok.
I am, though, leaving him to prop himself up for a week. Going on his family vacation without him, in fact. A week at the beach with his grandparents, parents, and siblings. And, incidentally, also my parents. I am not sure what kind of idea this is. But, the beach. Even without my husband, even with two sets of parents, the beach. That's what I want.