Last week when we were flying home from Melbourne, I had a middle seat.
I don’t mind a middle seat in normal circumstances.
But these were not normal circumstances. I had The Boy next to me, recovering from his cold, and I had Mr Germy McGermison on the other side, coughing up a lung and not covering his mouth (I blame his kindergarten teacher for not teaching him to cough into his elbow!). I was doomed.
I was trapped on the germ train with no escape for 4 hours and 10 minutes.
So I shouldn’t have been surprised that Thursday night started the blocked nose and sniffles and Friday morning introduced the sore throat, sneezing fits and general malaise, otherwise known as I want to be pampered and I want to complain.
This is not an easy task to accomplish when your loving partner is at work and you work alone. I whinged to myself, then called my parents to whinge some more and lay on the couch, feeling sorry for myself.
Last night was the longest night in history. I base this on the fact that I kept waking up due to my sore throat and every time I woke up it was still night. This could be due to the fact that I was in bed at 9:30pm or that my long sleeping jags were in fact only 30 minutes at a time, but still. Longest Night Ever.
So today, board game plans with friends have been cancelled, pj’s are still on and I’m now coughing as well as spluttering, with a suitable sexy voice to boot.
Anyone want to send chicken soup or any other family cold remedies?
And why does it sound like I’m talking in a tunnel?