"Oh, Greg," Molly crooned dreamily, "I'm so lucky to have you. You're so... sooooo damned… DISHY."
Molly suppressed a fit of coughing but failed to avoid the succession of sneezes.
"Yes, Love. So I've been told." Agreeing with his looped wife just seemed… easier at the moment.
"Oh, your mind, TOO," Molly said, her voice becoming quieter as the medication began to take hold. "And a beautiful heart, and your goooooorgeous brown eyes, and an adorable set of cheeks. Oh, I just LOVE them," she giggled, reaching around him to firmly grasp his behind. "They're just so damned SQUEEZABLE," she squeaked playfully.
Greg winced, jumping slightly in surprise. For someone about to fall dead asleep, his ailing, petite little wife had surprising strength in her grip.
"Molly," he said firmly, resisting the urge to give his smarting arse cheek a sympathetic rub where she'd no doubt left a forming bruise, "my love, you are thoroughly looped. I suspect your doctor prescribed your dosage based upon your age, not your body mass?"
"Oh, probably," Molly said, yawning. "But it sure seems to be working. I feel like a million qui…"
Greg held his breath, waiting. A soft muted snore told him his ailing wife had finally fallen asleep.
Softly, carefully, he kissed her temple. Maybe later, she'd awake feeling a bit better.