I’m sitting on the lounge writing this at 2:30am watching Sunday Night with Matty Johns catching up on my programs. I’ve spent the last 2 days on the lounge torn between napping and dying. I swear I’ve sweated more in these last few days than in any gym session ever. However I THINK I’m getting better. I think.
What’s worse is as I get better I can see everyone else getting worse. Ads in in the grips of the worst of it and he is looking like death warmed up, covering himself with frozen face washers. I can also see the kids getting grumbly and achey. Not much you can do when the whole house is shot. It’s batten down the hatches, strap yourself to the mast and get all Rhime of the Ancient Mariner.
This is where the well oiled sick machine rolls out. Everyone is issued their own drink bottles. No sharing not ever. If you’re old enough to have Panadol and Nurofen that’s going in at maxium daily doses. Zooper Doopers and lemonade become acceptable meals because if you’re this sick I don’t give a crap what you eat. True story. Veggies are great and would probably help but as long as something is going in and staying down I’ll be happy. Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. Movies and recorded programs on the telly with everyone tucked up on the lounge. Oh and I’ll cover them with Vicks except recently River decided that she’d rub the table down with Vicks instead of wood polish. Note to self: get more Vicks.
Then we wait for the epidemic to pass.
Once the cough and snot has started to subside I’ll open the windows. Let the fresh air in amd start pushing everyone to move and uproot themselves. There will be veggies and sunshine. Crisis over.