26/11/1992

Well, I suppose this is what I get for wanting Bugs home for Thanksgiving. He's ill. Well. I say ill. He has an ear infection. God knows how he managed to get it, but he's always been good at managing the impossible.

As all toons know, illness is not 'a thing.' We're made of ink/paint, therefore it's impossible for us to get sick. However we can simulate the symptoms of sickness if need be. And Bugs - for reasons best known to himself - has decided an ear infection is what he needs. And now he's complaining his ears hurt.

"Of course it bloody hurts!" I said, in exasperation when he told me this this morning. "It's an ear infection! Why couldn't you just get a cold like everyone else?"

He told me he thought with his 'delicate, finely-tuned rabbit ears' an ear infection would be better.

"Well, if you think I'm looking after you all day, you've got another thing coming." I warned him. "I DO have to work, you know!"

"Don't worry." He said, bravely. "I'll be fine."

To give him credit despite clearly being in quite a bit of pain [One of his ears was down and he looked a bit paler than usual. His eyes were watering as well, which was a great look.] he did help me shove the kids out the house and into Porky's car before crashing on the couch and pulling a blanket up round himself, whimpering pathetically.

I put my hands on my hips. "Are you going to lie there all day?"

"My ear hurts." Bugs whimpered. "Bed feels good."

"Yes, but this isn't the bed. This is the couch." I said, slowly and clearly.

Bugs waved a hand at the tv. "Couch day." He muttered. "Can you turn it on, please? I can't get up."

"Oh for goodness sake!" I said, as I switched the tv on. "Is this gonna be how it is all day?"

Bugs whined feebly for a drink and I got him one. He then asked for a carrot and I pointed out he had a poorly ear, not a broken foot.

"I'm ill!" Bugs whined. "You're meant to be being nice to me!"

"I'm very nice to you!" I snapped. "I jut have WORK to do and can't look after you all day! Just watch TV or something and I'll do some ACTUAL WORK!"

So off I trotted into the kitchen to do some studying. And it was my intention to study until at least lunchtime and leave Bugs to his own devices. However - as I tried to focus on the module on 'kids and social/emotional development', I had guilt gnawing in my stomach, because - as I mentioned - us toons don't get ill that often and Bugs DOES work very hard, and I knew in my heart of hearts that if he had developed an ear-infection it was probably because he was feeling ill, like, mentally and needed a few days off work. Which I get. I mean, WB is great, it really is. There definitely must be worst companies to work for and they look after us really well, but the schedule can be very demanding, especially for Bugs and Daffy.

So, half an hour into my 'studying' when I was still on the first page I gave up and slammed the book shut before making a cup of tea for myself and a glass of carrot juice for Bugs. I took it to The Invalid who looked at me in surprise and asked what I was doing here.

"I'm your husband." I said, completely deadpan.

"Oi know dat! I thought you was studyin'?"

"Can't concentrate." I muttered. I was hoping he wouldn't comment, but of course it was Bugs, so he had to.

"Aw!" Bugs clapped his hand over his heart and gave me a sappy smile. "Were you concerned about me?"

"No!" I said, feeling my face go red. "I just can't concentrate for some stupid weason, so I thought we may as well watch a movie and cuddle or something? As long as it won't hurt your ear anymore?"

Bugs affirmed that it would definitely not hurt his ear and we watched The Wizard Of Oz because Bugs was in the mood for something 'sappy'. It was quite nice, but when we'd finished I realised I was leaving it late to make the Thanksgiving Dinner.

Bugs did help me with dinner, saying he'd lay down enough for today. Unfortunately though the guy STILL can't cook after 55 years and nearly burned the turkey until I rescued it.

"How about you just go lie down?" I said, as I flapped the smoke away.

"Oi can help!"

"Bugs, you just nearly set the kitchen on fire! Tell you what." I added, as he gave me sad-eyes. "If you want to help me you can set the table."

"Relegated to a waiter." Bugs sniffed. "I'm offended."

Offended as he was, he still did it before shuffling off to the sofa. He got about a few hours of rest before the kids came back from Porky's for dinner. I opened the door to see an un-impressed Porky holding Buster and Babs by the scruff of their necks. "T-t-these two have b-b-been a ni- a nigh- a - not good. T-t-they kept dynamiting each other, even after I t-t-told them to st-st-stop."

I was really disappointed with them, to be honest. We've had multiple conversations about NOT dynamiting in the house. And I THOUGHT it was obvious that that meant ANY house, but apparently not.

I made them apologise to Porky, of course, then took them inside and told Bugs what they'd done. [Buster: "Why do you always have to tell Pops what we've done? Me: Because me and your dad are a team and we don't have secrets from one another.]

Okay, maybe that's not entirely true. We have some small things we don't discuss with each other. Dreams and stuff [unless they're either nightmares or really good] for instance. It's a bit hard to describe. If one of the kids came to me with something that - for some reason or another - they didn't want to tell Bugs and there was a REASON for it [aside from them not wanting to be in trouble] then, yeah, maybe I could not tell him. But me and Bugs are not getting in the habit of 'keeping secrets' from one another. That's just a recipe for disaster.

Anyway - with the lecture over - we sat down for dinner. The kids immediately complained because I'd given them...wait for it. GREENS. "And the turkeys tough." Elmyra complained.

"Well, you can thank your Pop for that." I told her.

Bugs sighed and moved his food around on his plate.

"Are you not eating any off it?" I asked, in disbelief, because he'd just SEEN how long it took me to make the thing.

"Sorry." He said. "But I can't taste any off it."

"Tasteless!" Babs yelled suddenly. "Daddy's food is tasteless!"

"Hey!" Bugs said, sternly, pointing his fork at her. "Don't be rude. And Daddy's food ISN'T tasteless, it's just I've got an ear infection and I can't taste things well at the moment. Now. How about we go round the table and say stuff we're thankful for? You know, like we're meant to."

I won't go into detail, because it's mainly the same-old-same-old, but needless to say myself and Bugs were grateful for our health, our family, and our house meanwhile the kids were grateful for their toys and stuff. [Me: How about the fact you get to go to school? Them: Ugh! School's boring! Why would we ever want to go there? Bugs: How about your parents? Babs: Well, you're okay I guess. Sigh. Have children, they said. They'll be a joy, they said...]

Well. On a whole it wasn't bad. And this is our first thanksgiving with the kids, so hopefully it'll only go up, right? I'm trying to be more optimistic. [Tweety recently complained I was to 'pessimistic'. And I really don't want to be, it just seems to be how I am. Prone to anxiety and stuff. Avery knows why. There's been a few theories. After effect of the war. 'Just how I was designed' The shift from being Egghead to Elmer. [Egghead was more a 'upper-class' guy than my hunter persona, who's just a complete idiot.]]

Who knows? Maybe I'll get there eventually. Then again, it's been 58 years and I've not managed to change, so maybe I'll be stuck like this forever?

I broached this theory to Bugs before bed, who agreed with me, but then added. "To be fair though, Elmsey, I'm almost amazed you ain't MORE cynical, 'specilly with, ya know, idiots like Taylor* and Pistoles* and the war an' stuff. I mean, oi know people would say that's not an excuse to be cynical, but ta me it's a damn good reason, and you're REALLY not that bad. Just a little serious sometimes. And quick to anger sometimes. But yer workin' on it, which is more than some people do. An' maybe de 'anxiety' as you call it won't go away, but jus' try and manage it and do what yer doin' know an' talk to people. It gets worse when ya keep it all up here-" Here Bugs tapped his forehead. "-Heh. Oi should know. Oi thought oi was goin' mad tryin' ta deal with everythin' in about the 50's. But then I talked to Pop [Chuck Jones] about it and he was able ta calm me down. Communication." Bugs finished. "That's da key."

Sweet words, right? I've just got to try and remember them. That's almost a quote, by the way, I've just asked Bugs to repeat what he said while I write it down here. I think he thinks I'm slightly mad, but never mind. We're all a little bit mental, right?

The mentions of Taylor and Pistoles and from my fics, 'Unsolicited' and 'The Stalker' respectively. They're both OC's. They're also completely separate stories, so it doesn't matter what order you read them in.