Sick and Tired

Literally, not metaphorically. Have spent the last two days lying in bed/on the sofa with a foul fluey lurgy, which robbed me of the last vestiges of creativity, but on the plus side also explains the Vlad mood I've been in for the last few days (as demonstrated in the last few entries). Added to which, of course, is my monthly dose of rage hormones, giving a truly fabulous opening for my evil cow side to come to the fore. He had taken to hiding far away from me, and is now exquisitely relieved that I have gone from ranting and snapping to crying and begging for Lemsip. Don't get me wrong, I think He prefers me normal, but out of the two I know He'll choose pathetic and girly every time...

I've decided that when it comes to being ill, I have more than a little of the man-gene in me - I know women are supposed to struggle bravely on, denying their illness and keeping a stiff upper lip, and granted if there's a shoe sale to be visited or a night out to be enjoyed, I'm up there with the best of them. But if I have the option of lying around the house, and especially of missing work, I jump onto the sofa and under the duvet faster than the speed of light.

Speaking of which, I was terribly disappointed yesterday by the fall in quality of daytime tv programming since I was last off sick. I could hardly find anything worth watching, though I did learn a surprising amount about house prices, why you should never paint a hallway red and green (because it's hideous!), and how to have a perfect seafront garden.

Also spent some of my sick day wondering what to get Him for His birthday in early March. Original thought was to copycat a friend of mine's sister and book the Bubble Suite at Hotel Pelirocco, but having called them, found the only room available that weekend is the one Jellie is desperate to stay in, and I couldn't do that to her... Have already promised him that we would do Brighton, so now need to find another fab hotel to take him to... (answers on a postcard please...)

One more thing... Today is, very sadly, my lovely friend Thims' (no of course that's not her real name) last day living in Essex before she jets off to the exotic climes of... well, of the south coast actually. I shall miss her loads, but she's off to pursue fabulous career aims, so I wish her well... even though as a selfish drama queen I'd like to keep her locked up in my attic for when I need her. Bye bye Thims, good luck to you and all who sail in you... (which, as your new home is overrun with army boys, should hopefully be quite a few!)

Laters xx