Cough… Splutter…

The title says it all really. I have been afflicted by the lurgy. Thanks to my dear, darling husband, who started coughing about a week and a half ago, and didn’t rest until he’d infected me too. What a delightful nearly-anniversary present, indeed. (It’s next week. We are going to a posh, Michelin-starred restaurant that I’ve wanted to go to for ages. Much food and wine and smelly cheese will be consumed, as thanks to the variants of respiratory tract infection (Man-Flu, EVERLASTING common cold) there’s absolutely no chance of pregnancy. Well I suppose not absolutely, but highly, highly unlikely. Unless his sperm really have been irradiated so much they’ve transformed into super-sperm, with capes and laser vision….ahem).

One week exactly after I started feeling ill, I still feel ill, I’m still taking paracetamol and ibuprofen and I’m coughing repetitively every single time I open my mouth. And sometimes even when I don’t. I’m doing some work tomorrow, which involves speaking, and directing people, so I am Not Speaking At All tonight, in the hope that I will not cover them in phlegm/have to resort to sign language tomorrow. That would be unprofessional indeed.

Oh I’m SO BORED of coughing, and not sleeping due to said coughing!

I haven’t had my appointment through for Mr Suave yet. He’s the next gynaecologist I’ve been referred to. I’m starting to lost track of these gynaecologists. I’m calling him Mr Suave, because I googled him, and his photo came up and he looks, well, suave. A pin-stripe suit, Oxford-educated, Queen’s English kind of guy. Obviously I’m being highly judgemental here. I don’t think the fact that we moved house on Monday has exactly aided in the delivery of post and therefore appointments, so I’ll give it a few weeks and then start chasing…

Speaking of moving house, the place we’ve moved into (temporarily, while our Proper House is finished. For “finished” read “built”) is actually quite nice. It’s bigger than our old house and the garden is massive. Unfortunately, it’s also filled with waist-high grass. After strimming a third of it yesterday and then collapsing with exhaustion, I am no longer lusting after big gardens. Small will be fine for me, thanks.

Oh crap, I just choked on my strepsil…

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2 responses to “Cough… Splutter…

  1. Night nurse saved me – I love that stuff.

    Hope you are better in time for your posh meal.

  2. *slaps enthusiastically but carefully on the back*

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