I had a horrible headache last night. It was the kind of headache where you collapse on the bed without taking off your boots.
I laid there. I considered what it would be like spending the rest of my life curled up on the bed, wearing boots. I thought about all the good times I would miss, and the fun trips my husband would take without me. My head throbbed so that I wasn't even that sad - I was just numb, and accepting of the fact that my life was basically over. These things just happen.
Then, My Guy showed up. He sighed, and pulled my boots off. Then, he instructed me to get under the covers.
"I'm wearing clothes. I can't get in bed," I said.
"Sure you can," he replied. And he got under the covers in his street clothes. So I did, too.
He read. I let the ibuprofen kick in. Pretty soon, he whispered, "It was really smart of you to bring the chocolate cake upstairs. Because, you know, I really want some cake now, and the kitchen is so very far away."
"I didn't bring the cake. But you could go get it."
And then he came back with the cake pan and a fork.
He got back in bed, rested the cake pan on my back, and chowed down.
Despite my headache, that cake smelled so, so good. It smelled like the cure for all that ailed me. It was the answer to my headache prayers.
I propped myself up, and we took turns with the fork. We got cake crumbs in the bed. At one point, My Guy looked at me and said, "Hey, fellow adult."
We laughed. I felt 100 times better.
And that is why it's important to a) have a good cake recipe; and b) marry someone who isn't afraid to break the rules.