I woke up late again, but today there was no coughing. This was good. Hopefully my body is starting to win the fight against the virus. I still can’t go too far from the tissue box and my voice is still full of gravel but I feel I’ve hit the peak and I’m starting the descent. I made a cup of tea and went back to bed.
It was too early for lunch, too late for breakfast and I dislike the term brunch as it smacks of power suits, so I had Elevenses when I got up. More specifically I had pate on toast. I had that mainly as the pate needed using up, it had been in the fridge since the party last week and had gone past the best before date. I had no intention of throwing it out, I dislike wasting food and I’d rather play the best before lottery that put something edible in the bin.
I felt strong enough to do the ironing so I attacked the shirts with vigour. I managed to drop the iron twice, spilling water all over the floor the first time and breaking a bit off of it on the second. I have only ever dropped the iron once before and today I do it twice. I might feel slightly better but my actions are betraying me.
I decided I needed more cake in my life so I knocked up a Victoria Sponge. There is something satisfying about making a cake. I didn’t feel like eating it once I’d made it. Another cake for the freezer.
I had the pie that Mum brought round yesterday for tea today. I had it with some potatoes and vegetables. It must be the first hot meal that I’ve had in days, living as I do mainly on salad. I really should rethink my cooking and meals one day, but not today.
I felt like I would be well enough to go to work tomorrow so I had a shower and generally prepared myself for the onslaught by getting my suit and shirt out of the cupboard and making sure that my shoes were clean.
It took seconds to fall asleep despite the massive amount of sleep I’ve had over the last few days.