I have a man cold.
I hate man colds.
I really, really hate man colds that spring themselves on me just before Christmas, when the humidity and temperature has decided to be summery.
Did I mention I hate man colds?
*For the uninitiated, a man cold is a variety of cold common to men. It is darstadly, vicious, long-lasting and life-draining. Man colds invariably leave their victims moaning on the couch, too exhausted to move, requiring loving administration of pain relievers and assorted comfort food.
I am reminding myself that this too shall pass. That I should really have expected it. After all, I stopped. Stopping usually pre-disposes a tired, run-down person to colds. Ugh.
I am telling myself to be grateful. I don't have a life threatening illness. I don't have to drag myself round eight hours of cleaning either. I don't really have anything pressing that must be accomplished this week. Sigh of relief.
I don't understand why some people dislike bed. I LOVE bed. Especially when I'm sick. So I've been taking myself to bed each afternoon once Munchkin is asleep. Not that I've actually slept much. It is a bit hard to really sleep well when you have either a raging sore throat (the kind that panadol, asprin or anything else won't touch!), or your nose is so blocked you can't breathe out of it. But still, the rest is nice. I need it.
The kind doctor told me yesterday that I'm on the up. I'm glad. I don't really want the antibiotics script he gave me 'just in case.' My throat is no longer sore, so if the snot-ball would just dislodge from my sinuses I could get on with my life.
Yesterday Munchkin drove trains and cars up and down Mummy's legs, in and under a blanket that he very graciously placed over his sick mother's legs while she lay on the conservatory floor. Today his grandmother took him out while I cleaned her house. He got to feed countless animals at a nearby animal park, while Mummy cleaned without having to worry what he was doing to the house.
He is now due to wake up. I did open the curtains. I suppose I should go and get him (Munchkin requires gentle persuassion to leave his bed most afternoons at an hour which means he will still want to go to bed tonight!). It just feels like a bit too much effort right now. Grin. Perhaps he can read me some books (my voice not being the greatest just now)? We probably shouldn't watch too much more Thomas this week. But then again, it might be nice...
Amy, the snot ball (I usually come down hard with colds, so I even have my own personal 'snot ball' song to mumble to myself - yup, I am weird but I will spare you the song at least!).