Of racking coughs and flowing noses…

I have been at my most inelegant self recently, what with being struck down by megalithic cold and cough and a voice box that decides to go AWOL on days I’m scheduled to interview good folks who have written lovely books. As is my style, I delay going to the doctor until it is certain that any further delay and I should be writing out my last will and testament. In triplicate. Knowing me, I normally donot keep important papers in secure places which could mean that my only possessions of consequence, will not go to the persons I intend them for, and languish, uncared for, in the home, until they get devoured by termites and silverfish. Which reminds me, the wardrobe and bookshelf cleaning is overdue, but first, let me return to the land of the living.

The consequences of this racking cough is unpleasant, it means I am largely left alone in public spaces with people edging away from me with alarmed looks and almost tripping over their feet in their haste to vanish from germ spread radius when the real marathon coughing bouts happen. Yes, I do use tissues. And handkerchiefs. But I’m hoping my virus reaches you in the light blue tee who looked at me like I was vermin for daring to stand in proximity with you. And mutates into some deadly form that ensures your horrified and disdainful expression freezes till eternity.

Among those edging away from me these days, and wearing a permanently disgusted look is the loving spouse. Oh I can so see him changing my colostomy bag when my day comes.

The upside? I’ve been downing a lot of cough medication. Which, needless to say results in the most pleasant sensation of being buzzed without using alcohol or other illegal substances. This creates problems when I am disciplining the child. He does horrific act of destruction. Looks at me, ready to spring away from my wrath. I beam beatifically. He shakes his head in disgust and prepares to commit me to the cuckoo farm.

The downside? I’ve been confining my social interaction. Given that I could dub for Ms Beazley, and feel as dishevelled these days, I’m not the happiest trooper to go faffing around at places where people dress to the nines and look like they rolled off a fashion magazine, with their eyelashes painted on one by one. I’ve been feeling like a Ms Grizzly too. The parlour would welcome me with wide open arms, a red carpet strewn with rose petals and nymphs showering me with fragrant water so overdue am I for a visit.

Therefore, as I cough, I’m busy catching up with them books stacked on my bedside shelf languishing to be read. The sitcoms I always wanted to watch in silence and never had the patience too, Gossip Girl, yes, Desperate Housewives, yes, OC. Been marathon watching them. And I’ve been eating. What’s a sad girl to do? Eating nice, comfort foods that hug me, and vow never to leave my hips unless I get a doctor to drain them out with pipes.

Be back when I have something to say.