Under The (Rainy) Weather

I don't know about you but it's September and I'm already unwell. It started last Tuesday where I felt a little odd but brushed it off as the beginnings of a cold; horrible but manageable so I gave it no real thought. By Friday I was calling in to work (in my first week, no less. If nothing I am fantastic at first impressions) as Amelia was down with some kind of sickness bug and childcare would take neither child. All was well and that night I ventured off to see Insidious with my best friend at the cinema and left my girls in the care of their dad. At times like these dad's are the best as boyfriend is forever patient with them, if not me.

Along comes Saturday and I feel like hell. I hadn't been drinking but it felt like I had been out on the booze all night long. By Sunday I was throwing up and Monday morning when I thought I felt better I swung my legs over the bed to get out and threw up right there on the floor. The saddest part about it is that I was alone with the girls so there was nobody to clean it up but me. At times like this I miss being a child.

So Monday I was off work spending the entire day cwtched up with the girls under a duvet and a fleece blanket trying to keep down fluids and playing a rousing game of 'who can get to the only toilet in the house first'. The girls seem to be better. I seem to be worse. I don't know what it is but although the sickness has all but stopped I feel like I've been beaten. All of my muscles ache (which I put down to the Fibromyalgia flaring), I have a banging headache almost constantly and I'm quiet. I'm never quiet.

Boyfriend calls me Lorelai (Gilmore Girls). That is how little I shut up.

I'm dragging myself to work every morning despite this as not only do I not want to make a bad impression of slacking but also I really do need the money so I try to look half decent, haul myself on the bus and pray that I get a reprieve. I listen to music while working just to distract myself from being such a misery moose but you know when you feel all bleurgh and riddled with germs? Well yeah. That.

To cheer myself up I've bought fresh bread and coffee syrup to add a little kick to the morning's festivities and I'm not feeling guilty about whacking on the heating for two hours straight while I sip coffee in the garden for a little fresh air. I've spritzed myself with my most favourite of discontinued perfumes and I've just tried to put effort into the little things beacause people always say it's the little things people remember and when a whole lot of a mess is going on all I have to put my faith in are those teeny tiny little efforts I esteem to make.

What do you do when you're ill and feeling sorry for yourself? Rest is sincerely not an option so anything I can work with?