'Tis the Times' Plague, When Madmen Lead the Blind

Ridiculous things I feel guilty about today:

I called in sick for work yesterday, even though

I've been sick for four days, flat on my back with fever, laryngitis and sore throat

I haven't cooked dinner for four days

I haven't done the ironing.

I'm still not terrific today, but I doubt I'll get in to see my doctor. I can't have more than one night off without a medical certificate, which is a great way to encourage Dudley Doo-rights to come in, even when they feel like death, and are going to infect the rest of the staff. Colour me collapsing if I am as sick as I feel.

I tried to have a shower yesterday, but it was too hard to stand in one place while I washed, so I had the quickest bath ever. Baths, in my opinion, should be bubbled, candle-scented and furnished with a good book. Therefore they are always an hour long. Not yesterday, and I was toying with the idea of hacking all my hair off so I could stop the sweaty-haired lout feeling every time I turned my head on the pillow. I've worked my way through nearly all of the drugs in my drug bowl. I have a fruit bowl on top the microwave full of drug packets. Something in druggy literature must have dripped through, but it's not as fun as it sounds. No party packs of 'ludes, coke or tabs of questionable origin yet delirious effects in our household. Dammit.

Small lad scored this one on Friday and the poor mite simply slept for two days. He still has moments of looking peaky, but is otherwise fine, lucky for me, because staggering around yesterday to get his lunch and even conversation (such as it was) was getting a bit much. Today small one (for whom I am going to have to find a new soubriquet, since he's not so little anymore) is off to vacation care with the Y! M! C! A! (do the arm movements for me, would you? my joints still hurt), while I sleep off the day. And hopefully the last of the illness.

I'll try my doctor shortly, but given my luck last time, I think it's time for a new doctor. It's still early in the season yet.

I had plans for this five days off, which weren't terribly ambitious. Strangely none of those happened, what with me in bed all the time. As much as I'd like to be all upbeat and attempting poetical, really, I feel like dogshit and all over having a whinge. Plus even laughing hurts, or induces really painful coughing. I have hayfever at the moment too (say hey! to hayfever) and when I sneezed yesterday, I thought I'd blown out the back of my nose. You know, the bit where your nasal passages meet the roof of your mouth? That bit. Ouch.

I keep reading things weirdly too, so I couldn't escape into a good book. Or any book. I tried starting Sewer, Gas and Electric: the Public Works Trilogy but couldn't get past page four because my eyes were sliding all over the page. I looked up at this entry and though I had planes for this five days off, which makes no sense at all: our driveway is too steep and small for that sort of thing, though it might have shut up the screaming neighbours for five seconds. Not the same lot as previously reported (although they still feature), another lot.

I had an extravaganza of a long dream last night involving the show Medium, poisoned food that Joe Dubois kept eating and some kind of barbed-wire made of cooch grass. And there was unlabelled tinned food. It must have been delirium, because I'm pretty sure I surfaced a few times in there to roll over and tug my sweaty hair out from my neck. Or from my earring. Or off my face.

Cue this morning and the boys ran around getting ready to go to the Y! M! C! A! (ditto re arm movements please) while I slobbed out in bed wondering if I could manage getting up today. I'll need a cup of tea soon, so there's an incentive. I'd like to make mozzarella-filled meatballs with a tomato and bocconcini salad for dinner tonight (plus the makings will go off soon if I don't get to them), another incentive, of a doubtful nature, since it involves lying in bed all day in hopes of being well enough to get up later.

I think I'll go back to watching Castle and drifting off. Sound good? I thought so too.

Ills of Boydom

Or rather, this is the third day at home for the small lad. He has a really great husky voice happening but wants to go to the doctor. Pity our doctor is not available for some reason today.

Meanwhile Cookie Monster is playing Big Bad Wolf playing Grandma to get the awful looking bird seed cookies off Big Bird.

Chris Lilley might well be a genius, but I don't like his characters. I can see where the humour is or should be, but caricature isn't always amusing. I didn't like Burn After Reading for the same reason: laughing at the genuinely unintelligent is just mean. If anything, particularly in Burn After Reading, it made my heart hurt to see people get in their own way and not realise what they've done.

The letter of the day is Q, which unless they're about to start in with English spelling of either Chinese or Arabic, should be the letter(s) Qu. English the Evolution, coming to a children's show near you!

Time to run a bath so hyperactive sick boy can have some "relaxation" time and I can have a slight rest; meaning I can go and get some work done. For this afternoon's project, I have a request to make pom-poms.

I feel like we're living out in the country. It's been four or five phone calls and I've conclusively failed to get through to our doctor. While I don't really need the backup (to wit: permission to keep small lad at home), the cough is deep and booming and the laryngitis pretty ick. That hasn't stopped his nibs from leaping around the lounge room, nor splashing about happily in the bathtub. I had to pull stern Mum face to stop him splashing all over the bathroom floor.

(Not that it worked, nor do I mind all that much. For a sickie lad, he has been very easy, even if he does keep confusing my foot with the cat. No, not a fever induced hallucination, more a failure of the peripheral vision.)

Pom-poms are a no, repeat, we do not have pom-poms. Much more fun to play Fruit Ninja on the iPad and watch the re-runs on ABC2. I dudded myself this morning on a voice-over for the "new" Bananas in PJ's ads and was told to stop it. "You know B1, This isn't right, we used to be dressed up people, not this animated nonsense." "Yes B2, I've been feeling a bit unreal myself." "Muuuuuuum! Stop it!"

At least it wasn't Yo Gabba Gabba, the bossiest, children-should-be-seen-and-not-heard excuse to cash in on kids shows ever. Strangely, small lad seems to like it. It lost me the day it told its viewers that they must be very quiet when they were playing, because being loud was bad. They're kids, kids make noise. That's what they do, and parents tell them to be quiet.

Having descended into the beginnings of a rant, I had better be off. Everyone reading, have a marvellous day, and I'll try for more interesting blah blah blah soon.

Is there a doctor in the house?

One would hope given that I've just been to the doctor.

Now I'm dosed up with antibiotics and an anti-heartburn medication, it's all going to be good.

I've been sitting on a chest pain for quite a while, which is utterly stupid. When he asked the heartburn question, my first response was "Terrific! Much better than anything my imagination was coming up with!" Which made him laugh. I might have a gastroscopy in my future, but at least it isn't something worse.

I could go the run around about how and why I procrastinated about it. In fact I will. I thought it was just stress. One of the stressors went away and it eased, so points to me on self-diagnosis. Now I could get on with all the other things I have (and want) to do. I still have a pile of documents to write! I patted myself on the back and then out of the blue back was that uncomfortable feeling. So much for my diagnostic skills.

Spent yesterday training a new person, which was, as always, a hoot. I love teaching! I also love finding out that I have access to something in our computer system that I thought was limited to special peoples! (I'm not the only one - it seems to be for anyone at my level). (Useful, nevertheless.)

Points to my trainee for finding my excitement on that one amusing. I get excited by weather, so it's not much of a stretch.

Want a pithy (although occasionally a bit negative) T-shirt? Try Despairwear (despair.com). Nice, I say.

A little more invention and I'll make my own, just for the fun of it. My personal favourite from Despair is: "Tradition. Just because you've always done it that way doesn't mean it's not incredibly stupid."

Since I can't be bothered getting my hair streaked blue, T-shirts will have to do. I will probably talk myself into it one of these days. The next time I have a fat pay-packet, probably.

Don't worry, I'm right behind you.

Using you as a shield.