So, this happened last week. I’m not proud of it, but it happened.
Hubby and I both have colds at the moment. It would beg to differ that we do, in fact, have the same cold.
Yesterday we both went to work.
I picked up the kids on my way home, got dinner ready for them and ran their bath.
I made myself cheese on garlic bread as I couldn’t be bothered to cook and I threw some steamed fish into the microwave for  hubby.
After the kids were in bed for the night hubby turned to me from his computer desk and asked me “what did I feel like doing?”
Now, usually this is the code for me to initiate sex but as we were both suffering with the chills and the sniffles I was fairly confident that this was off the table. I said to him from my desk “how about we watch something?”
“Sure thing” he says. We stare at each other. Its like a Mexican stand off with who could look more pathetic in their sickness, as we both realise that the thumb drive with our shows on it is in the TV still and the show that we wanted to watch was on his computer. 
He looks at me, reaches for a tissue, blows and checks the contents (why must men DO this??) and sighs. I sniff loudly and let out a little groan.
He coughs and groans louder.
I rub my eyes.
He wipes his brow on his dressing gown.
Neither of us is willing  to go over to the TV and retrieve the thumb drive as this would openly declare them to be less sick than the other.
All sympathies would be lost.
Not that there was much to start with, but that is not the POINT!
Now normally I would suck it up, accept that I could NEVER be as sick as a male, and just go and get the damned thumb drive or whatever was the bed-bug of competition but as I was seriously contemplating going to bed when he posed his initial question, I really had nothing to lose by calling his bluff.

For the want of a thumb drive, the war was lost….and all that.
We stare at each other through red-rimmed eyes.
Both of us trying to out-pathetic the other. 
Eventually I say to him, “Well, I cant be bothered watching something so I’m going to bed then”
“OK” he says morosely, slumping in his chair “I cant be bothered either, g’night”
I kiss him goodnight at his desk and take myself off to bed.
After five minutes I am feeling really hot and bothered so I get up and grab the thermometre to take my temperature. 38.6C. He asks what it is. I tell him.
Hubby takes his temperature as well.
I KNOW what’s coming.
“38.9C” he shrieks with glee, animatedly standing up and fist pumping the air.
“I’m sicker than you! Na na na na naaaaaa”
“High Five?” he says to me all former lethargy gone.
Gah. Men.
Pathetic.