While I was staying at my daughter's place in Montreal last week I gobbled Vitamin C and washed my hands with the obsessive compulsive fervour of a raccoon on speed because both the daughter and a visiting friend were sick with one of those coughing, sniffling colds.

Aye yi yi, I was terrified I'd come down with her cold just in time for the Jog for the Jugs aka The Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation Run for the Cure. When I woke up Sunday morning feeling fit as a fiddle I was smugly certain the bullet had been dodged.

*Insert ominous organ chord here*. Dum Dum DUM.

The spousal unit came in to Montreal early Sunday morning for the Jug Jog. He has no love for large cities and absolutely hates driving in Montreal where the drivers are, oh, how to put this diplomatically ... death on wheels. But he came, walked the course with our daughter, took lots of pictures for me, and then we drove home.

It had been a while since we'd seen each other. I was delighted that he'd made the sacrifice to come in to Montreal to share this important experience with me. One thing led to another and ummmm the marital duties were consummated enthusiastically.

(This would be the part where, by decree of the spousal unit, I have to say the words wangitude, stamina and prowess since somehow he got it in his head that having to write those words might actually curb me writing about the marital duties. Really, you have to admire his optimism.)

About 2.5 nanoseconds after we had, uhhhhhh finished intermingling mass quantities of bodily fluids, I began a deep bronchial coughing fit, the sort favoured by dying Dickens heroines.

That bullet I thought I had dodged? Right between the eyes. In a heartbeat I went from the picture of health to a hacking, wheezing, sniffling and extremely infectious carrier of a seething mass of biohazards. You can well imagine his delight over that happy state of affairs materializing right after The Enthusiastic Welcome Home.

This weekend is the Canadian Thanksgiving which is normally a big deal in itself. It's going to be an even bigger deal because we're going to celebrate my mom-in-law's 80th birthday at the same time. There will be a huge potluck dinner. Everyone in the family will be schlepping a buttload of goodies down to the home farm for the celebration.

I, of course, will be perfectly recovered by then since it appears that this cold has a four day incubation period and runs about three days. If past experience holds true, this means the spousal unit will morph into a hacking, wheezing, sniffling and extremely infectious carrier of a seething mass of biohazards just in time for the feast.

Which means he won't be able to go.

To say he is not pleased really does not begin to convey his state of mind at the present moment.

So if you read a headline about a middle-aged woman in Quebec being bludgeoned to death with a leftover turkey drumstick by an irate spouse this holiday weekend, well, now you know why.

Me, I wouldn't blame him a bit.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 448.65 miles (716.6 kilometers)

Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers