A terrible thing happened the other day. My husband was struck down by tuberculosis, small pox and the bubonic plague all at once. Covers pulled up to his eyeballs, four layers of clothing and unable to answer with much more than a grunt, some would have called a priest for The Last Rites.
Wives think husbands are wusses.
The response was fast and furious, and had I been being literal, I would have run out of sharp sticks. Now I was not surprised at the results of my poll, rather, I expected them. Regardless of race, color, or creed the same scenario is played out all over the world. Husband gets sick, world stops turning. For the duration of the malady, a man will shut out all outside influences and convalesce behind drawn shades.