So among the spoiled wastes of tissues I lay, sprawled in a sea of crumpled white paper like virgin roses shrouding me in my coffin. A cough, a splutter, I am gone now...alas... *puts palm to forehead in dramatic style*
I hate being sick.
So, burning the candle at both ends, as it turns out, is not as economical as it seems. I am sick. And as I am sick, I have decided to be completely self indulgent and wallow in my martyrdom for a moment.
For the last 8 weeks or so, I have been working 12 hour days. I have not had weekends off, or even the occasional day at my leisure.
Sure, I only go out to work for the 'man' for 2 1/2 days a week (thank you lovely 'man' for paying me :) ), but every other spare minute, I am at home sewing, cutting patterns, taking care of admin or cleaning the house (haha, that last one was a lie).
As it is almost Halloween, here is my horror story: you can be extra terrified by knowing that it is TRUE! mwuhaha...
I felt it creeping up my back like the hand of doom last week.
Hunched over a patch of candy apple felt with needle in hand, a sharp twinge in my spine was the first signal that the pox was upon me. Complaining to my husband that my back was aching with unusual intensity, I was rebuffed with taunts of 'stop being an old lady'. I went back to my sewing, trying to be as youthful as possible, seeing that this was the only advice given to ward off a sore back.
However, the next day dawned with an evil portent in the sky. The thunder clouds roiled and broiled on the distant horizon as I felt a tickle in my throat. I again complained to my husband, with which I was rebuffed once more with 'did you brush your teeth last night?' I had to admit he was right. But still, something was wrong, more than just furry teeth could attest to.
It wasn't until later that day, my back sore and my throat raspy, that I walked in on a horrific sight. Husband was reaching to the very top of the pantry. I quickly ducked behind the fridge where I wouldn't be seen. He rummaged around for a while, pulling out ear medication and laxatives (don't know whose those are?) until I saw it. The bright orange wrapper gave his game away and I leapt out to confront him in his nefarious deed.
"Haha!" I said "sore throat husband?!"
I had caught him. It was always the way.
Where I might bring home flowers or homeless kittens, Husband brought home colds and flu's.The Vicks vapo-drop, butter menthol flavoured wrapper fell to the floor. It was all over, the truth was out. I was sick and the harbinger of illness had bought it upon me.
Cue thunder and lightning.
Hope you are all doing better than me. I will retire now to my bed and sup upon warm tea. *uhuhm-uhuhm* no no, I'll be fine, really.