Dear Journal,

I think I’m gonna die. 

I’m not even kidding. One wrong move and I think my head is going to explode. Blaine had a minor cold last week and I thought I was safe because I had just gotten over one before he got sick, but apparently my immune system really hates all the sudden weather changes lately. 

Last week we went on a walk through the park without our coats on, and now it’s snowing… I mean, really? Make up your mind, weather! It’s nearly April and I really need to start switching out my winter wardrobe, but I don’t dare to yet. At least Blaine’s wardrobe is a bit simpler, since that’s mostly packing up the thick sweaters and hanging up his summer cardigans. 

First I’m punished for wanting to be fashionable, and now for wanting to kiss my fiancé in sickness and in health… 

Blaine feels bad for spreading his germs, and I keep trying to reassure him it’s okay, but he still insists on taking care of me. I may sound dramatic, but I know I’ll be fine in a couple of days. But as fuzzy as my brain is right now, I’m still not stupid enough to say no when a handsome man wants to wait on me hand and foot ;)

He made me some soup and garlic bread earlier and he’s now disposing of the veritable mountain of tissues I had been building next to the bed. 

I love that man so much. He takes such good care of me, even when I’m being a whiny little bitch and won’t admit it, and nothing is too gross for him. I really lucked out with him and I can only hope that I manage to take just as good care of him when he needs it. I’m totally going to make him clean up all the baby vomit when the time comes, though. 

~ Kurt