God help us all. Forget all about my little cold, my blocked up nose and hacking cough. The household has now been hit by something truly terrifying and sinister – we now have Man Cold. More serious than Ebola and of course B firmly believes he is at death’s door, looking pleadingly at me with bloodshot eyes and his already deep voice all gravelly and coarse. He might not even make it until lunchtime and I am on standby to take him to A&E in case he sneezes.
As Christmas rules stipulate, the fairy lights on the mantle piece are on, despite it being broad daylight, and the Christmas candelabra with its electrical candles too where I’ve put it in front of the fire place instead of on a windowsill. Sitting on the sofa and trying to organise my stressed mind in order to get some kind of momentum going today – I work best when I have a list to work from, so here goes:
- Content for wifey’s hubby’s website.
- Two chapters for Alice.
- Sort babysitter for B’s work x-mas do.
- Call landlord about lock and radiator.
- Order slinky x-mas dress.
- Work out where in Stockholm B and I can watch a Lucia procession on 13th of December.
Seems plenty to get through for one day. My almost-a-cold still has me sniffling and I now also have a cough that scratches away at my sore throat. Not that this stopped me from smoking or anything, which is a bad habit I need to get rid of. I never really smoked “full time”, yet over the past year and a half, both B and I have turned into proper smokers and I can really tell how it’s wreaking havoc with my health. I can tell from my skin, the smoker’s headache I wake up with and how I get out of breath really easily. OK, so my running has taken a backseat lately, which has meant my lungs haven’t had to work hard, but the smoking is the bandit here. We both smoke at least 15 a day, which is a staggering amount and unfortunately beyond 30 years of age it isn’t something you can get away with – unless we quit, we both will end up with some evil lung condition.
Smacks of a new year’s resolution really, but I don’t believe in those. If you want to do something, do it NOW. Setting a date I think is just putting off something you actually don’t want to do. Like starting to diet “next week”. Anything labelled with a start date anything other than NOW is doomed to fail, in my view. The pathetic thing is that quitting smoking is dead easy, it’s how we fool ourselves into believeing it’s a hard thing to do that causes so many people to fail. Anyway, I bloody REFUSE to get to my 40s and end up with the telltale signs of lines around the mouth, dull and wrinkled skin and poor health. No thanks. I was blessed with kickass genes and to ruin them in this needless way is taking the piss. In fact, I’ve used that as an excuse TO smoke really, telling myself that because I’m so blessed I can get away with it. Not so. Proven fact – all smokers end up with COPD. No exceptions. And I don’t want to be one of them.
So when, if not now?
B’s on a call. He relocated to the bedroom, heroically walking the harrowing distance of ten whole metres, despite being struck down in the prime of his life by the deadly affliction Man Cold. I mean, I don’t know hardship, it’s not like giving birth would even come anywhere NEAR the suffering of these big, strong men who are hit with Man Cold. All 6’2 of my gorgeous B tucked up in bed, laptop on his, well, lap and anytime I’ve stuck my head in the door he’s looked at me with eyes that are clearly expressing he’s not long for this world. I do hope he can pull through, even in the bleak face of these terrible odds of survival.
Jeez, 11.30am already? How did that happen? We’ve been up since about 7.30, and sure, I’ve got a lot done this morning, but the lion’s share of what I need to get done is still ahead of me. This is one of those days when I need a few more hours added. And now that we’re in November and the days feel really short, it’s even more needed. Perhaps it’s just me, but by the time it starts to get dark, it’s almost like a signal that the day is over.
I think I’ll start with finding somewhere for Lucia in Stockholm. The most beautiful Christmas tradition I know.