Cough cough cough.
I sat miserably at my desk, groaning occasionally and rubbing pathetically at my neck. Not that this helped matters at all, but it was successful in its primary aim (of making everyone around me aware of the fact that I had a sore throat and was feeling under the weather).
Cough cough cough. Groan. Cough cough.
McBouncy bounced bouncily into the building, full of the joys of autumn. She regaled me with several anecdotes, and I coughed a lot. I sniffed a few times, too, just to get the message across (even though I haven’t actually got a full-on cold yet, and therefore have no real reason to be sniffing. I repeat: yet.), and issued a few complaints about the price of Lemsip and FluPlus tablets. I don’t even have the money to be ill, these days. “And I didn’t get any sweeties,” I concluded pathetically. “It’s all one big rip-off.”
Cough. Cough cough cough. Groan.
McBouncy rolled her eyes and went next door (where her husband, McLovely, has his workshop) in search of “sweeties”. She is the only person in the whole world who can say things like “I think there might be some Strepsils filed in a filing cabinet somewhere”. She returned with some cough medicine instead, which I rejected dolefully on the grounds that I was already drugged up.
Cough cough cough.
“I asked McLovely if we had any Strepsils,” said McBouncy, grinning. “When he asked why, I told him you were sitting in here complaining. He said ‘Here’s a bit of two-by-four; hit her over the head with that. It’ll give her something different to complain about, and we can fix that - I do have some headache tablets.’”
I was aghast.
I may have to reconsider McLovely’s blog name. I chose McLovely because (a) his surname starts with ‘Mc’ and I thought it would be cute to choose ‘Mc’ names for the whole family, and (b) he is generally very lovely. Now he’s plotting my demise with large pieces of wood. Everything is changing in my world.
Cough cough cough. Groan. Cough.
What a big McMeanie.
Filed under: complaining, conversations, coughing, friends, pain, pseudonyms, woe
join the club!! iv been sniffing sneezing and coughing for 3 days now!!
still mad…
I say put TH in quarentine for a while…. just to be on the safe side….. for the rest of us that is – sounds like its too late for you!
Sorry – not so chirpy tonight. Just home from 3 days of glorious sun (ok, 1 day and 2 days thunder and lightning!!) and my chirp has temporarily forsaken me. Normal service will be resumed….
Awwwww… ya poor thing…
IF I was my Mom (which I’m not. luckily.) I’d instruct you to go home and breathe in hot water and baking soda steam. Or moisten your socks with vodka and wear them underneath other pair of woolen socks overnight. Or raid somebodys aloe vera plant and soak the bits in honey and then eat them (I had to when I was a kid. YAKKKKK!!!). Or cover your chest and back with goose fat.
She’s clever like that.
Good grief, Foreigner. How did you survive childhood?!! Thanks for the tips, but I’m OK with just taking regular modern medicine and complaining a lot.
Hope you’re chirping again soon.
Chirpy – welcome, and thanks for being OK with being called Chirpy!
Ally – want to say sorry you’re sick but really I’m quite glad there’s someone else suffering! Sorry!
Dirk – give over or I’ll change your name to something even more stupid. I don’t know what that could possibly be, but I’ll find something…
Ah, I know the remedy for this. You need to gargle with some TCP
http://englishmuminireland.blogs.ie/2007/09/21/tcp/ (it’s worth a read just for the ‘ew’ factor) x
McLovely read the blog for the first time this morning…. not a good day to start!
He called you a “skitter” (dont think that is a bad word) and laughed.
I am sitting at my desk – 5 mouse traps surrounding me and McLovely has NO SYMPATHY! Still havent worked out what I would do if “Minnie” were to run into one of them.
Anyway, I agree McLovely is McMeanie….
I hope you’re feeling better. I can empathise with getting no sympathy. It’s bad enough when you get no sympathy from your friends, but when your family lets you down, it’s something else again. Picture if you will, New Year’s Eve 1999. Father BonBon and I had succumbed to the ‘flu. We had been through the ‘I’m so cold that I will never warm up again’ stage. We had been through the ‘I’m burning up and why am I talking gibberish?’ stage. We had discovered that ‘aches and pains’ was a massive understatement for the sheer agony of every movement. We had coughed and sneezed and prayed for death. Death did not come, we were forced to remain in misery and watch televised highlights of others making merry. The unkindest cut came when the daughters BonBon looked at us both with expressions of sheer disgust and asked, ”How are we going to tell our grandchildren that THIS is how we spent Millennium Eve?”
Get Well Soon.
Poor Hails. PMT one minute, sore throat the next. You’re such a brave soul! If I wasn’t in a different country, I’d come and sympathise with you, buy you some Soothers, make you a Lemsip etc. However, as this is not possible, I’ll just send you a cyber-hug instead. Hope you get it! Feel better soon – love how you can still be funny when sick! x
English Mum – love it!!
McBouncy – I’m glad he laughed. Am a bit afraid of him now.
Mother B – It’s like Comic Relief, this comments section, sometimes.
Joey – Marry me?
I am sick, too. Cough, cough. Sniffle. See?
Poor Hails. It would be funny, though, if it turned out you were actually allergic to Kat the Cat.