snot and pus

The majority of my colleagues have had it… and yes, they’ve shared it. And now I’ve got it. Aargh, sinusitis and a gurgling cough have taken up residence in my head and throat. Even my eyelids hurt. And let’s not even mention the multiple eruptions on my face, which come to think of it pee me off far more than the snot, if that’s at all possible. Hey, hang on a minute, how attractive must I – not – be looking with a head full of snot and a face filling up with pus.

I’ve had about thirty-six hours, bathroom breaks not included, in bed. Disgustingly I’ve stock-piled a brown paper bag full of tissues and empty throat sweet blister packs, that if I don’t bin quickly will probably require the bedroom to be decontaminated by some nuclear agency.

My daughters were kind enough a short while a go to suggest I have a shower…aah children and their honesty, what a shame it’s not linked to pocket money. And my husband wants me up and about to air the bed so he can sleep here later on. It’s that or he’ll take up refuge tonight in the spare room. Hmmm, hope he likes sleeping alone.

OK, I’m going to stop feeling sorry for myself now and get up. But hang on a minute if I do, then everybody will assume I’m better and expect me to start cooking and tidying up after them. Better idea, stay in bed for another twelve hours and make the most of it.

Blimey, I must be feeling better if I’m back to finding ways of not cooking. Yikes, I’d better start practicing a gurgling cough followed by a wail of discomfort.

me and my socks

Without fail, throughout the winter months I wear a really long pair of socks in an attempt to keep warm.  There’s nothing fabulous about them, usually a pleasant shade of black or brown to match my shoes, or on a more frivolous day I’ll go for a brown with orange pattern, or black with a touch of pink. 

Anyway, less than an hour after putting them on, the darn things are swimming around my ankles, something that continues throughout the day I might add, leaving me no choice other than to yank and pull them up.   I’m a grown woman for goodness sake, surely by now I should have mastered the art of wearing and keeping my socks up!

Well it seems I’ve had this problem all my life.  Yes, my Mum reminded me recently that she has a fond - I hope it was – memory of seeing my socks divorcing my knees and embarking on a new relationship with my ankles daily as I walked to school.

I just don’t understand it, perhaps I’ve got misshapen calves!