How To Tell When You're Sick ~ Part One

Blehhh, cough, schnoffle, pfft…

I’m rarely sick. I was blessed with a great constitution, the kind that would have seen me scoff with mirth at silly little Marianne Dashwood’s sojourn in the cold, wet, English countryside had I lived in that century. You know, the little stroll that almost killed her.

Pride comes before the fall folks. Pride comes before the fall.

Today I spent ten minutes trying to wrestle a rogue pillow into its pillowcase only to discover (after I’d screamed in frustration at the lack of energy/co-ordination that this darn cold has seen fit to bestow upon me) that I was trying to stuff it in the sewn-up end.

Uh-huh. I sure did.

I managed to get the top two corners of the fitted sheet onto the bed only to find my energy had fizzled by the time I reached the other end - so I just threw the quilt over the top and called it quits.

My remedy for such malaise?

When I was in the supermarket I spied one of those sneaky impulse-buying devices. You know, when they place the displays of chocolate next to the registers because they know that at any point in time, approximately one-fourth of all women shoppers will make a snap decision based purely on hormones. Or a head cold.

Today, I was that woman. It was totally a Tim Tam day.

And now I’m going to kick back with a cup of tea and one of those lovely morsels of All That Is Good In This World and pretend the steam from my beverage isn’t melting the mucous in my nose.

*Sniff*