Fun cometh before a fall... or something like that

Well this week has not gone as planned! I expect most of you can relate to that.

Sometimes I wonder what plain of reality my brain works on! I get these grand ideas in my head and scheme away for hours. Then reality bites me hard, right on the bottom, and I look back on my ideas and wonder what I was thinking.

Case in point: this month.

December is pretty much my favourite. Not only do I get Christmas but I love the whole atmosphere. Cwtching up on the sofa, great TV, great food, everyone seems happier, work is quieter and it's my DH's birthday.

So my expectations went like this:
Week 1 Decorate the living room.
Tidying the house in preparation of dog sitter (my lovely mum).

Week 2 Booked a beautiful hotel an hour from home for DH's birthday. Kept it low key with only an evening meal as travel would be reasonably short. Lots of relaxing, sitting in beautiful stately home and time to catch up with my other half.

Week 3 Booked the week off work to wrap presents, prepare my food shopping lists and enjoy some family time.

Week 4 Eat, drink and be merry.

At this point I was imagining a cross between the decorated house in Home Alone and a 1950s sitcom where I was wearing a pristine apron and amazing dress. Sigh.

My reality:

Week 1 Decorated the new artificial corner tree I bought. If you haven't seen these they are basically a quarter of a tree that fits neatly into a corner and takes up less space. I had a box of beautiful but weighty ornaments that a real tree can never support for more than a few days. Hence the purchase of a stronger artificial tree.

However, my half decorated tree decided to topple over just as someone knocked on the door and the dog went bananas. Turned out it was my brother-in-law at the door who had to hold up the tree as I belly crawled under it, looping flexible garden wire around the middle and anchoring it to a large decorative mug with a tin of chopped tomatoes inside. I kid you not.

Week 2 DH, who never catches more than a sniffle that lasts 2 hours, caught a full blown cold. This meant tidying and preparing for our night away fell on me, but I was feeling good. Nothing was going to get me down.

The hotel was amazing, DH perked up a bit for his birthday and had a lovely time. On our return he felt a bit worse again and my throat started to get a bit sore....

Not to be deterred from my vision, I unpacked, put all of the washing on, loaded the dishwasher and went to the shop to buy thank you flowers for my mum.

Week 3 Woke up at 4am feeling like I'd swallowed glass. Tried to go back to sleep. Woke up at 6am and brushed my teeth but got back in bed to read until everyone else woke up. By 8am I knew I'd be seeing a medical professional that day.

One phone call, two attempts to put on a suitable outfit to go outside e.g not PJs, and I was off to the GP. As it was an emergency appointment they now give you a slip of paper to hand in to the Dr or nurse. It says that you are there as a medical emergency, if your issue is not an emergency and doesn't need to be dealt with today, to go back to the window and make an appointment (probably for 3 months next Wednesday at the earliest). Basically a guilt trip in writing. And it worked. I was zoned out, had a fever and it was getting harder to swallow but my brain was asking itself if I could wait.

However, I think my fever spiked in the waiting room as I was sat between the 7yr old with an iPhone and an ear infection and the tween with a cold and her childminder. I zoned out, started at the floor and just chanted 'please call me next' in my head every time I heard the beep of the intercom.

I think I was on chant 18 when my name was called. I shot up and was examined by a lovely nurse who said my glands were the size of golf balls and that I had strep throat. And a high temperature. On day 2 of my week off.

My prescription is fun though. I have to take it on an empty stomach, 1 hour before food or 2 hours after, 4 times a day, evenly spaced approximately 6 hours apart for 10 days. I wanted to write down the times I should take them and lost 2 pens in the process so mental capacity was not at its best. I feel like I'm constantly wondering when I can eat next.

So, I'm now in bed, feeling slightly sorry for myself and wondering what I was thinking. I like that saying 'if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans'. I'm paraphrasing, but I like the sentiment. I made many lofty plans and came away with a bit of a mixed bag!

But I suppose, that's life, and life is what happens when you're busy making plans. Ok I realise that every quote I've ever heard is stacking up in my brain like a line at the post office waiting to get out so I'll leave it there!

My plan for the rest of this week is:
Figure out how to fit meals in around the antibiotics.
Don't let visitors touch the Christmas tree without signing a waiver.


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