Much like a woman dealing with a bad break-up, I've come to find out that Scott handles a bad cold in similar, head-shake inducing ways.
Rather than a tub of Ben and Jerry's or a classic chick flick, Scott has spent the past week off of work, hunkered down with Kleenex and water on the living room sofa or the day bed in my office. I watched him read books voluntarily for the first time in our relationship -- one that I had got him two Christmases ago and another from my parents last year.
Today, he spent the day creating our family trees -- going through long lists of McCardles and Zooks as well as the Ukrainian vs. Polish vs. Austrian descendants, thanks to my ancestors' hometown lying on a shifting European boundary.
But perhaps his proudest -- and at the same time craziest moment came last week when he ordered a 10-disc documentary simply entitled "Baseball."
When it arrived rather quickly, I gritted my teeth, handed him a DayQuil and wondered how I'd survive more than 20 hours of baseball trivia, as a girl whose only sport consisted of running around a circle with no obstacles or equipment.
Two "innings" later and it's actually a fun experience. I've gotten quite a bit of crocheting done and I know he really appreciated my gesture.
"I think it's awesome you're watching this," he said tonight. "And that you enjoy it. Or, if you don't enjoy it, that you're pretending to enjoy it."