I seem to have the dog’s disease, all sniffles and sore throat and feeling sorry for myself, so I am staying home and not going to the nursing home. Tried to phone Don to tell him I won’t be in today, but his mobile either needs charging or has been switched off, so eventually I rang Sister instead. Told her apologetically that I wasn’t really well enough, and for her to tell Don that I’ll try to be there tomorrow.
Sister was very direct and to the point. If I’ve got the flu, or even just the common cold, they do not want to see me there at all! At least not today and preferably not tomorrow either. “Not even wearing a mask?” I asked. Too risky with the fragile state of these people’s health, I was told. Masks aren’t all that effective.
So I feel as if I’ve been granted a holiday. Slobbing about in my tracksuit and ugg boots, I feel quite decadent, and I realise what a chore it is to have to get dressed up enough to go visiting, every single day. And having to go out in the car, every single day. And never just staying quietly at home having a leisurely morning and sitting out on the deck having lunch in the sunshine.
I probably would not have got up at all, if I’d had somebody this morning to go and fetch in the paper and bring me a cup of tea. But then, I know full well that if there was somebody in the house who would do that, then I would want to be up and enjoying the company, so that doesn’t really work.
I think just the one day might do it, though. I’m really not up to doing housework, and there’s absolute rubbish on daytime TV, so I’ve just spent the morning pottering about, playing piano, fiddling around at the computer, having a read. Now I’m about to get a hot lemon drink and go to bed with a book for a couple of hours.
Now, that is decadence!
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