I hate being sick

 

It’s only a cold – truly – but it feels like more.  You know the type when your sinuses feel like exploding, your skin feels that its got little creepies all over it, your ears have cotton wool in them, your throat feels like you are trying to swallow steel wool and when you sneeze your whole body sneezes!  So you get the picture!   What to do?  Take to bed and don’t leave; buy shares in a Codral factory; plaster nose with Vaseline and leave the rest to the power of sleep!

Being sick is the pits but on the plus side I don’t care what I look like, the animals are happy they have someone to cuddle up to during the day, Treasure has someone to make cups of tea for, I can wear p.j.s all day and (when I can focus) I can read.  

I was saving Stieg Larsson for the trip now I’ll have to find something else.  In moments of clarity I’ve found the world of Lisbeth Salander and Mikael Blomkvist.   Its compelling reading.  His own story is almost as interesting as the books.   A journalist who died after delivering his Millenium Trilogy to his publisher.   These are his only books.  

He was younger than I when he died and here I am whingeing about a cold.

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