Mood: Sick of being sick
My health has suffered in recent times, resulting in my spending most of last week in bed, desperately battling a throat infection as well as a chest infection.
It all started on my birthday, when I took myself to Melbourne for the weekend. The little man in the red valour jacket seated next to me coughed the entire journey from Sydney to Melbourne, spreading the love and germs to everyone else in the cabin. Having pushed my body to limits well beyond its years, I was considerably susceptible to any bug that was willing to latch on. And the little man in red valour had just the very bug that came to find a nice little home in my battered body.
What was to have been a massive birthday weekend turned out to be fairly tame, with me spending more time in bed than out seeing the sights and living it up in Melbourne. I returned to Sydney with a strep throat and the feeling that I was sucking down razor blades every time I swallowed.
As it turned out, I had to come to work on Monday as I was inducting a new staff member. I spent the day talking and talking and talking and was grateful for Quittin’ Time. After waking on Tuesday feeling like a truck had hit me (I spent most of Monday night in tears as swallowing ceased being an option), I called work to let them know that I will be taking some sick leave. Still feeling off on Wednesday, I chose to stay in bed again rather than spread the love at work.
I did manage to drag my sorry butt into work on Thursday, but the arctic conditions in the office proved too much for my frail body, assisting the germs in my throat to settle into my lungs. Getting ready for work on Friday morning was interesting – I showered, tried to dry myself before fainting and knocking my head on the bathroom floor. And yes, I chose to spend another day in bed on Friday to try and kick the bug.
There were other valid reasons for trying to get better as quickly as possible. Christmas is just around the corner; friends from London are arriving in a matter of days; the work Christmas Party is this Friday and it is always a huge affair. And most importantly, I was entrusted with the care of my nephew Tommy, all by myself, for a few hours on Saturday (and potentially for a few hours on Sunday).
So it came to being that I spent Saturday and Sunday morning with my gorgeous little man, playing and watching telly, and we even shared a bit of lunch – ham and cheese sandwiches divided in such a way that Tommy got the ham and the cheese and most of the bread, and I got the crusts (lovingly proffered to me after he considerately softened the crusts with his own teeth and saliva). Tommy was in such good spirits both days that I even broke the Golden Rule of being an auntie – Aunties Don’t Change Nappies. Yes, believe it or not, I changed a nappy on Sunday, and I apparently did a good job. Does that mean I’m ready for kids of my own???
I didn’t think I’d get much other fun out of the weekend – after all, I was a sickly frail old lass who should have been in bed. So it surprised even me that I managed to get myself out to Ikea for some exercise on Saturday afternoon. My main aim was to get a couple more lamps to replace my cursed bedside lamps (long story – remind me to tell you another time). I liked the fact that you can mix and match the bases and the shades to your own liking (and budget), and I chose these to add to my furniture:
While I was in the store browsing, I also picked up these little beauties – 2 little side tables that slide into my couch, so they are not intrusive and enable me to sit on my couch to eat my dinner as opposed to spreading myself on my floor.
There were other odds and ends that ended up in my big yellow bag – a bathmat, some coat hangers, other bits and pieces. The bill came to $150 or so – don’t ask me where the money went – I really, truly, honestly didn’t buy that many things (or so I keep convincing myself).
And now I’m spent. And I must go home. The air conditioning is really doing nothing for my chest.