Sick. I'm fully sick. Really.

Actually, in some cultures, Gentle Readers, that actually means "I am unwell".  Amusingly I had a phone call from Miss BlueLambb this afternoon enquiring if I was actually still employed by the August Institution, as I haven't been there for a week (Thursday was the Australia Day Holiday, Friday was swapped for my regular Tuesday off, as we had a half-day offsite thingy scheduled for our whole team & my lovely Boss wanted me there), and today is apparently Wednesday.  So.  

I have acquired some stinky virus, which has given me a nasty wheezy cough, which is happily producing **TMI ALERT** yellow-greeny slime, a headache, pounding sinuses and lethargy.  That's definitely the highlight.  I'm still in my PJ's, (not too unusual, I hear you say...) for the third day running (that's the unusual bit - how did I get to the Doctor?) apart from a brief sojourn in real clothes so I could go to the doctor, get anti-biotics for the (wait.  Is that hyphenated?  Antibiotics.  Anti-biotics.  Who cares, really?) chest infection, and ... oh bugger, I've lost the thread.  I'm sick, y'know.

Anyway, before all this happened, we spent a lovely relaxing weekend in the Hunter, and MGF Kaz and I took some nice pics.

Kaz's Sunday morning sunrise:

 Strawberry?

Sit up nicely!

Who, me?  On the furniture?

Gimme five!

On Saturday morning these guys were pictured having a bit of a sleep in, in next door's paddock.  Quietly, oh so quietly, I tiptoed round the verandah in my LLBean slides so I could get a quick pic... obviously not quietly enough.

Hello?

Did you hear something?

Quick, let's go...

On another note, I took absolutely no sewing with me, which was a bit silly in hindsight, because I'd promised Master H that I would make a pouch for his mother's birthday (29th January, oops) - you can tell I'm sick, can't you?  I just split that infinitive right down the middle.  I promised Master H that for his mother's birthday, I'd make a particular pouch.  It's still on the sewing machine.  I started it before we went to the Hunter & tried to finish it when we got back from the Hunter, but due to an earlier-than-usual dinner start time, and the incipient virus, it's still sitting there.  Very soon now, honest.  Mr Golightly pointed out two rules of sewing that I broke trying to get it finished in time - measure thrice, cut once; and, don't sew when you're sick/tired.  Very nasty.

Anyway, if only I'd taken it all with me, I could have had it made before I got sick, I wouldn't have let Master H down, and he could have given it to his mother for her birthday (29th January, did I mention that?  Oh yes.  I'm sick, you know.)

So, no sewing, no work, no fun, no sin, no you, no wonder it's dark.  Anybody recognise that?  Me neither.  I'm sick.  Ciao!

PS Thanks to the Peppermint Penguin & the Chairy Godmother for the moral support.  I'm still here, for now!

It's been a nothing day today

And that's what I've done, Gentle Readers, exactly nothing.  For the first time since I've been off, I've felt like doing nothing at all, but not in a good way.  I couldn't settle at the sewing machine, the three-quarters finished pillow case is yelling at me from inside the Small But Perfectly Formed room but I've walked passed with my eyes averted all day.


My former boss has passed my resume onto a potential new boss & I need to ring him about a job, my friend Auds has asked me to join her in her trip to India in February, I have a bagful of fabric from the Homewares store on the floor of the Small But Perfectly Formed Room which needs to be made into things, the washing is piling up, I promised Mr Golightly sausages to go with his ham and salad for dinner, and yet... blah.  I feel definitely apathetic about it all (and I didn't get the sausages, either).


Although, I did do one thing, and that was to dye the laundry room floor streaks of red - in early December, when we went to Perth, we had a small accident with a load of washing, and a black and white shirt.  We forgot the washing was in the machine, the black dye in the shirt ran onto everything else in the machine, so we bought some colour remover and very successfully removed all the unwanted dye from everything, but it also removed all the colour from my favourite coral-coloured t-shirt, which was reduced to a shadow of its former self except in coral-coloured blotches.  And it has sat, in my drawer, waiting for me to buy dye.  


Yesterday I bought a packet of Dylon Scarlet dye, thinking that it would cover up the coral-coloured blotches.  And it kind of did, but not really.  The dye did manage to spread itself all over the floor, the walls, the tumble-dryer, the window, the door handle... and I wiped it off the floor with paper towel, and it's left lovely pinky-red streaks all over the laundry room floor, which may wear off in time... maybe.

I washed the newly dyed t-shirt with a pair of Mr Golightly's trousers (navy, so it wouldn't show if it ran (and it didn't, but the pockets, facings and every other white part of those trousers are now pink), a green towel (still green) & two cream towels, which are now pink.   So now I have a coral-coloured splotchy t-shirt, which I think is destined for housework, instead of being my favourite going out in medium-good company-shirt.  Damn.  No wonder I'm down.


Meh.  Ciao.