Blah, blah, blah. And just for good measure, another dose of blah. Some days are like that. Today is very much like that. I feel, well, blah. And words are supposed to be my thing. It goes like this. I have in my handbag a certificate that says I am unfit for work. But I won't use it. And in any case the work I am paid for is only a fraction of the equation and no piece of paper covers the other bits. My husband is away. My son also has bronchitis. I have yet to train the dogs to do anything much more than being awesome moral support. So I must apply rule one: Mothers don't get sick. Cooking, cleaning, bill paying those things continue. There is only one thing to do when feeling-sorry-for-self-itis hits. Go home and visit mum. Mum went out and returned with Pad Thai noodles knowing that it is my favourite and sometimes when you are sick all you want is your mum. And while I was there the dogs and I visited the next door neighbour Clare. They had the best time running around the back garden chasing the birds and I got to just hang which was kind cool. It didn't make the cough any less colourful but it did make me feel a little less like flying away.
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