“Man-Flu” when the whole world, and headline news has the prime time coverage of how “my legs will drop off if I try to make myself a cup of tea on my own” and “my forehead is over a hundred degrees”. Please.
I’ve been figuring out how often or frequent I should blog. One moment I have too many amusing tales to share, then the other hand, is deciding what would have that same reaction in cold text than in that moment itself. Apologies for I’ve been caught with the Winter bug myself and only resurfaced yesterday. Unlike Man-Flu, I tend to seek solace. I need to be left alone. Period.
I’ve always been practical minded. There’s no point moaning about your pains or problems when they aren’t a professional in medicine to assist in a solution. I tend to find my tracksuit joggers and layer up with sweatshirts and comfortable tees. Hair tied in ponytail and just get on to making batches of vegetable soup, fruit at hand and just try to get through the period as quick and painless as possible. I will always have fresh air breezing in, as I believe that in a heated room, you will only trap germs and worse yet create the perfect breeding ground for them as a new tenant.
This is where being a bachorlette is ideal. Why would I want my other half see me looking like this? I don’t wear much makeup anyway, so I have no face to hide. But the point being, I need to veg out under my blanket and just be in peace. Head pounding, I don’t need to be asked “How are you feeling?” or “Do you need anything?” every ten seconds, and this would be coming from considerate partners. Can you imagine if I had children to tend to, extra mouths to cook and feed, “where’s my clean shirt?” and “why are we out of milk?”
My immune system is awful. Always has been. This had started from the moment last week, and I know exactly when. I was on the train when this gentleman decided to be rude and cough completely in my face The-Green-Mile stylee. Thanks. My worse habit is my insomnia, I’ve had it all my life as far as I remember, from having an overactive mind. It’s always thinking, pondering, solving, ticking away. Pretty harmless, as I lead an active and alert life. It’s only a problem when situations like early flights or when I need to shut my body down to repair from being poorly. Being single when poorly is great, as I don’t have to worry about whether my constant blowing my pink nose will keep him awake at night, or whether he can hear my louder breathing, as you’re either blowing out to breathe, or if you stop doing that, you have to leave your mouth open before suffocating yourself at night. Which I’m sure if I had someone next to me, the pillow may be the weapon of choice in several hours. No i definitely raise to vote being single when you are unwell is perfect. No worries about leaving my crumpled Kleenex Balsam tissues next to me.
But one of the sweetest things was when few friends of mine decided to surprise me by dropping off a Care Package! How sweet! It had Orange Jaffa cakes, Orange Juice, packets of more Kleenex Balsam, mini Kipling’s for sugar energy and Lucozade aka my savior when I’m unwell. I had to post this, thanking them for their kindness. It’s the thought that counts. So now, my head is clearer from being days of being fuzzy, showered, redone my nails with a slick of clear varnish, hair washed, and out of the joggers and sweatshirt, and feeling ready to take on the world. Day two of feeling more alive, okay I still have this odd Mariella Frostrop vocal chords as if I have had a carton of Menthol cancer sticks all day. So who needs another half around, when I can get well by myself. Or when you have Jaffa cakes delivered, and oh.. did I mention, I have a new date next week. Recovery perfect timing…
– xx –