Bah. I am so sick of being sick. This is my fourth round this season - a cold, followed by a bad cold, then actual influenza, and now bronchitis and tracheitis. Fun fun fun. I am getting very bored. I can't move much without coughing, my brain is too fuzzy to do anything serious, and there's only so much solitaire and Stumble-Upon surfing one can do. I can't phone a friend because talking sets off the cough.
If I actually had a week at home while healthy, there's so much stuff I could do. Singing or piano practice, tidying up, sorting out my tax, cleaning out the wardrobe, gardening, baking... Or even just reading - I've been trying to read Sean Carroll's Endless Forms Most Beautiful and my brain keeps switching off. I did manage to finish Trick or Treat, the new Kerry Greenwood cosy, but I can't remember what happened, or if it made sense. Something about a Melbourne Greek Jews Nazi stolen treasure hunt Halloween revenge murder plot. With witches and cake and bread. Umm.
I am *not* going to cancel the Friday dinner party. I've worked out a menu - mixed antipasto, 7-hour saltbush lamb, creme brulee. Assuming I can shop tomorrow, or even Friday, I can buy some antipasto & green veg. And I have everything else I need. I *will* be better! I have drugs. I'm mixing them with gay abandon - nurofen plus, a nighttime rum toddy, antibiotics, cortisone, multivitamins, cough mixture. Work, damn you , work!
Or I would have everything I need if I hadn't just got word that one person doesn't eat meat. I think I'll just add a quickie spinach & cheese impossible quiche to the mix.
Cooking today: Reheating the chicken, chickpea & potato curry; with a vacuum packed ready-made curry of green things on the side (Mattar mehi). This is voluntary, I must note. The bloke is not some slave driver forcing the sick from their beds. He'd be buying Vietnamese from up the road, or making baked beans and toast, if I hadn't done all the shopping & cooking on Sat & Sun before I got quite so sick.