![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I have the dreaded lurgy. Fucking spring, it always does this - lulls me into a false sense of security with nice things like enough warmth I don't have to wear million-denier tights and sunlight and flowers (turns out I am, in fact, a girl - who knew?) and then drops an awful stinking cold on me.
Tbf, in this instance, I know exactly who I got this from - my parents. Have managed to also pass it onto Doug, poor thing, and the rest of my office will probably fall victim, by which point I will be over it and immune, and I will lauuuuuugh.
Which isn't particularly nice, but I don't care as they've been laughing at me. Trying to talk to clients on the phone while losing your voice is an interesting experience, especially when I get caught off guard by the need to cough when I answer a call and resultantly the first sound the person on the other end hears is not my standard canned greeting, but instead the kind of husky bark that might be produced should you ever manage to knock the wind out of a camel. Not fun, and not professional, but I am at least, still in work. I can't really do without the cash this month - the only reason I haven't had to resort to baked potatoes and cheese for dinner every night until the 30th is that my parents keep enough food in their freezer that they don't mind me stealing some while I was home at the weekendgetting infected, the bastards.
And by 'some' I mean 'a lot', and some of it is stuff I'd never normally bother with - like vac packed confit of duck, which will be interesting. Tonight, for instance, I'm going to try and cook gnocchi; never done so before in my life, and all the recipes I can find for it online are distinctly uninspiring, so I've decided to just treat it like pasta and hope for the best.
Also on the cards for tonight is fixing the goddamn bed. I fell against it last week and as it's on hard wood rather than carpet, it would appear the middle foot got caught on a floorboard or something - they are VERY uneven in the new place, I've nearly lost a toe to them several times - and cracked. Resultantly, I've now christened the bed with the name SagsInTheMiddle, which I can't help but feel needs to reappear as a character name at some point down the road.
But it means that regardless of where Doug and I start off of an evening, by the next morning we're kind of smushed together in an uncomfortable heap in the middle of the bed. It's only the fact I'm on lates and therefore can lie in after he's gotten up, slowly coaxing the kinks out of my back, that have meant I haven't ended up with a giant crick somewhere. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my fiance, but I would dearly like to sleep somewhere that isn't his armpit sometime soon. Current plan involves judicious use of some of our old texbooks to prop it up in place of the leg; it's not like we need them for reference much nowadays.
Tbf, in this instance, I know exactly who I got this from - my parents. Have managed to also pass it onto Doug, poor thing, and the rest of my office will probably fall victim, by which point I will be over it and immune, and I will lauuuuuugh.
Which isn't particularly nice, but I don't care as they've been laughing at me. Trying to talk to clients on the phone while losing your voice is an interesting experience, especially when I get caught off guard by the need to cough when I answer a call and resultantly the first sound the person on the other end hears is not my standard canned greeting, but instead the kind of husky bark that might be produced should you ever manage to knock the wind out of a camel. Not fun, and not professional, but I am at least, still in work. I can't really do without the cash this month - the only reason I haven't had to resort to baked potatoes and cheese for dinner every night until the 30th is that my parents keep enough food in their freezer that they don't mind me stealing some while I was home at the weekend
And by 'some' I mean 'a lot', and some of it is stuff I'd never normally bother with - like vac packed confit of duck, which will be interesting. Tonight, for instance, I'm going to try and cook gnocchi; never done so before in my life, and all the recipes I can find for it online are distinctly uninspiring, so I've decided to just treat it like pasta and hope for the best.
Also on the cards for tonight is fixing the goddamn bed. I fell against it last week and as it's on hard wood rather than carpet, it would appear the middle foot got caught on a floorboard or something - they are VERY uneven in the new place, I've nearly lost a toe to them several times - and cracked. Resultantly, I've now christened the bed with the name SagsInTheMiddle, which I can't help but feel needs to reappear as a character name at some point down the road.
But it means that regardless of where Doug and I start off of an evening, by the next morning we're kind of smushed together in an uncomfortable heap in the middle of the bed. It's only the fact I'm on lates and therefore can lie in after he's gotten up, slowly coaxing the kinks out of my back, that have meant I haven't ended up with a giant crick somewhere. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my fiance, but I would dearly like to sleep somewhere that isn't his armpit sometime soon. Current plan involves judicious use of some of our old texbooks to prop it up in place of the leg; it's not like we need them for reference much nowadays.
