Friday, 2 June 2017

Hello cold world...

I have fallen victim to the head cold which has been orbiting our house for the last two weeks. Son number two introduced it into the house first, spreading the germs throughout as he sneezed, coughed and blew non-stop.  In fact, this is still going on, but as there was a one day break, I have to assume that this is now a completely separate affliction.

Son number two deals with a cold the way most males do, and takes to his bed, moaning gently to anyone who has the balls to enter his room without oxygen tanks and a face mask.  He took several days off work,   Recovering at home, he played on his laptop and watched Jeremy Kyle (how is that man still on television?   Surely all the Bristol-dwelling, toothless ne'er-do-wells who participate in dubious sexual practises have now all appeared on his show? The time will come when Mr K will have to start using normal people.  I'm not too sure that having Bernice from Upper Wallop complaining about her nephew borrowing her Hunter wellies and not returning them will make good television though).  

So back to son number two on his deathbed.  I did remind him that he was only doing at home what he would have been doing at work (but with his dressing gown on) but he was adamant that his germs had to be contained.  It's a shame that he didn't contain them in his bedroom though.  Why he felt it necessary to come downstairs for food is beyond me...

So then the husband went down with it.  Luckily, his cold peaked while I was away in Italy, so I wasn't subjected to the snuffles and sneezes and the rolled up balls of kitchen roll which he likes to deposit in his wake.  I came home to find every cold remedy known to man stacked on the microwave.  I'm not saying he took too many pills, but I was sure that he started to rattle at Day 4.

So now I've got it.  Have I had a day off?  Course I haven't.  Even if I stayed away from Binland and mopped my own brow, there would still be stuff to do.  Washing and ironing doesn't do itself you know.

Unless you are a male, in which case you would deny this.  Dirty clothes?  They just reappear in the wardrobe at some time in the near future, washed and ironed, don't they? 

Like magic...

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