I was going to call this post ‘Sicker than your Average’ until I Googled ‘Slicker than your Average’ and realised that that’s the name of a Craig David album…see, I must be ill if my puns revolve around shitty UK Garage.
But yeah, we’re all ill. Sausage has dealt with it in her usual stoic and utterly admirable fashion, she really does epitomise the English stiff upper lip. I, on the other hand, have been feeling the need to proclaim how shit I feel on an hourly basis. Husband is feeling crap too and is probably a day or two ahead of me in the course of the illness, so everything I’m going through, he’s already dealt with.
It started with a vague sore-throaty feeling, then my glands started to swell and now I am full of snot, feeling like my head is going to explode and needing to be near a radiator or under a blanket for 90% of the time. Sausage has had a cough on and off for a couple of weeks, which started to get more persistent, so she’s now on penicillin, which tastes like that stuff you paint on your nails to stop yourself from biting them. She’s taking it like a trooper, with only the minimal amount to bribery with sweets to take the taste away.
I must say, I don’t really know where I’m going with this post. I think I wanted to try to replicate the minute amount of comfort I get from announcing my illness, but on a much larger scale. I’m sorry for this shitty, whiney post. Normal service will resume A.S.A.P., but until then, any sympathy will be gratefully received. As will mugs of chicken soup. Though I doubt anyone is mental enough to bring me soup in 6″ of snow.
But as a conclusion, I’d like to add, this illness had better fuck off by this time tomorrow, as I will fully lose my shit if I have to miss out on going to my Mother-in-Laws for dinner tomorrow. She’s making her stew and it’s just about the one food that I can think of that might make me feel better.
Goodbye, and goodnight.
(Also, sorry for the unusually high level of profanity, being ill makes me extremely acerbic.)