Prescription: bed rest and retail therapy
Was off sick again on Friday. Spent the morning in bed re-reading Harry Potter, and then dragged a hoover round the house and did some washing up (but not drying up. I hate drying up. I just put tea towels over the work surfaces and leave everything on them to drain.)
Felt a lot better by Saturday, but still stayed in while He went round to Rease's house to do music stuff. Amused myself by spending four hours in the bathroom lifting myself from my state of sick-bed ugliness to my usual state of slightly-too-curvy-but-reasonable-looking, which involved shaving what seemed like acres of skin, exfoliating, plucking, scrubbing, conditioning, painting, preening, la la la, and in the end made me feel a damn sight better.
I then got stupidly excited at the prospect of going out of the house for the first time in 48 hours, and insisted He pick me up on hs way home so we could go to Blockbuster and Tesco. Felt validated when the skinny young student boy in Blockbuster stared at me like all his Christmasses had come at once.
Decided that after all the illness, on Sunday I deserved some retail therapy. And so I donned my best shoes, flexed my credit card, and He drove me to the huge shopping centre, only for me to end up to finding nothing worth even trying on, let alone buying. Always the way... In the end spent £12 in Borders on 'Intimate Confessions of a London Call Girl', which I've already almost finished. Fabulous.
Inevitably, He has caught my flu, so he is tucked up in bed today while I'm at work. I am doing the reluctant nurse thing (with both my own illness and other people's, I have no patience), but to be honest it's just one more thing I/we don't need. I wouldn't mind so much, except it means that our weekly routine will be thrown completely out of whack, as I can't drive and therefore can't do things like the supermarket run solo. Stupid thing to obsess about I know, but I had a lovely evening of interior design shopping planned for tomorrow, and I don't fancy forfeiting it...
Anyway, that was my weekend. And despite certain trials, life is suddenly looking, inexplicably, a little bit up.
Felt a lot better by Saturday, but still stayed in while He went round to Rease's house to do music stuff. Amused myself by spending four hours in the bathroom lifting myself from my state of sick-bed ugliness to my usual state of slightly-too-curvy-but-reasonable-looking, which involved shaving what seemed like acres of skin, exfoliating, plucking, scrubbing, conditioning, painting, preening, la la la, and in the end made me feel a damn sight better.
I then got stupidly excited at the prospect of going out of the house for the first time in 48 hours, and insisted He pick me up on hs way home so we could go to Blockbuster and Tesco. Felt validated when the skinny young student boy in Blockbuster stared at me like all his Christmasses had come at once.
Decided that after all the illness, on Sunday I deserved some retail therapy. And so I donned my best shoes, flexed my credit card, and He drove me to the huge shopping centre, only for me to end up to finding nothing worth even trying on, let alone buying. Always the way... In the end spent £12 in Borders on 'Intimate Confessions of a London Call Girl', which I've already almost finished. Fabulous.
Inevitably, He has caught my flu, so he is tucked up in bed today while I'm at work. I am doing the reluctant nurse thing (with both my own illness and other people's, I have no patience), but to be honest it's just one more thing I/we don't need. I wouldn't mind so much, except it means that our weekly routine will be thrown completely out of whack, as I can't drive and therefore can't do things like the supermarket run solo. Stupid thing to obsess about I know, but I had a lovely evening of interior design shopping planned for tomorrow, and I don't fancy forfeiting it...
Anyway, that was my weekend. And despite certain trials, life is suddenly looking, inexplicably, a little bit up.
posted by Mookmoo at 10:08 am
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