The sick is upon us. Man, woman, child (x 2), we've all gone down.
Not bad going considering it's early June, by this time last year we'd already had all manner of medical dramas too boring to remember or link back to.
This has been a nasty one, one of those which befuddles your mind. And god knows I don't need anymore of that.
Under the influenz(a) I have, in the last week ...
... lain awake in a fevered insomnia composing what I thought at the time was a hilarious and witty blog post about suppositories. Yes, suppositories. Pediatric ones at least, but still.
... lain awake in a fevered panic thinking that my book club was due to arrive at mine in a few hours and I'd done nothing, was sick as the proverbial sick dog, the place was in chaos and, and, and arghhhhhhh!
... sent out 12 invitations to small friends of Frieda's who all have at least one younger sibling and one parent who'll accompany them to a birthday party in her honour AT OUR HOUSE IN TWO WEEKS TIME ON WHICH DATE IT WILL UNDOUBTEDLY RAIN OF COURSE. Yes I'm shouting, have you done the maths?
... shipped my eldest daughter off to her Granny's twice as she's recovered faster than the rest of us and has been driving us all bezerko with her boundless energy and ear-splitting good health. She's much happier there, trust me.
... been reading lots of delightful books, some of which I'll probably have the pleasure of reading again as already I can't remember a thing about them. Double the value!
I'm feeling better now. Really. Except when I think about the party. Arghhhhhhhh.