What a dead loss of a weekend

I started a cold on Friday. My general modus operandi for colds is to stop. Do not go out. Do not really do anything. Just Have The Cold.

So, Friday night, I felt very sorry for myself (N was caught up with work, and had been WFH so that he could get the lawn mowed this weekend, and generally deal with other matters to keep it looking tidy for house viewers). I should have been helping at a ceilidh. Instead, I was sniffling on the sofa.

Saturday, I was in bed most of the day, frustrated not to be at the Brownies Centenary Celebration (200 Brownies did not need my germs, the adult helpers did not need me sniffling, snuffling and wobbling about failing to pull my weight). I did catch up on Dr Who, and do an awful lot of baby knitting. But I was on my own and feeling sorry for myself. And now I don’t have any more episodes of Dr Who to look forward to, until next week!

Today I slept in, then wobbled over to the supermarket. I forgot my wallet, but fortunately had the credit card wallet, so could still pay. We do now have milk, so I can have tea (the previous bottle had turned to yoghurt). We have stuff for supper. I have stuff for lunch next week. I have wrapped presents, and nearly finished the wedding thank you notes (now waiting for Nick to guillotine the photos to fit the cards and for me to locate spare cards as I apparently managed to buy four packets of cards, and one packet of inserts…). I’m on a course next week, so can’t work from home. It’s in Tower Hill. It is frustrating to think that I can actually run there and back when I’m on form. At the moment, half a mile down the high street is quite enough.

On the plus side, N will soon be back from football, and I shan’t be on my tod anymore, and that’s going to make things a hell of a lot better.  I’ve had a shower, and I’m clean. The random person who was going to arrive tonight to stay is not arriving until tomorrow now, so N can help me change the sheets on the spare bed for them, and there’s more than half a chance that the laundry in there will actually dry before they arrive. Hurrah!

All in all, it’s looking up, really. Not that it was really looking down. Just that I was self-pitying.

xxx

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