The image is not so pretty, today. Red and green describes the colour of my eyes. I woke to find them greenly glued together, and when I finally prised them open, the insides were red. So after dropping my people at their various Higher Institutes of Craft-Making and Fun-Having, I went to the doctor. There I sat and I sat and I sat. I sat for two and a half hours, amongst moaning pensioners, expectorating teenagers and quietly wilting people of the middle years. Once I finally had the attention of a doctor, I was told it was a virus and that I need to go home, take paracetamol and rest. I basked in the light of his wisdom for a full three minutes. All in all, not a satisfying experience.
Damn, I’m cross. Cross at the waste of my time (I read my book, but still, the principle!), cross that I’m sick, cross that I can’t rest, cross that I can’t go to gym, cross that I have a precious 12 hours a week to myself and that today’s three hour allocation was balled up into a doctor’s prescription and tossed into a sanitised bin. He offered me a doctor’s note, and then when I said I work from home, made his swiftly becoming unfunny joke that there’s no being written off sick for mothers. Ha! I laughed not!
I’m fantasising about sending my children to a school with longer hours, about committing the sin of not providing a hot lunch, about having a bit more time to myself. We had dinner with newly-arrived US friends on Friday and I was explaining how school only lasts until 12.20 because the entire fabric of German society is based on the hot lunch.
Friend’s husband: So what do you give them in summer?
Me: A slightly cooler lunch.
Cheer me up, won’t you? See that shiny little badge over there on the right? Please go and vote for me in the category Best Overseas South African blog. That would really make my day and I promise to stop complaining about my health and my very extremely tough lot in life if you do. While you’re there, you could vote for my friends the fabulous Cooksister and the inspiring Vanielje Kitchen too, but save a little vote for me and my red-and-green eyes.
While you do, I’ll just lie here in the foetal position, groaning slightly. Then I’ll slap myself and go and tidy up the remains of Hot Lunch #1,026 (sausages, carrots and new potatoes).