We're almost in the middle of the month and I'm still trapped in the hectic pace of the race. The little one picks up cough, colds, bruises in the nursery pass them on to us and we're nursing illnesses, in a way.
Actually, it's the hubby's stirring passion for camaraderie that lets the flesh down through going to football matches, meeting up with friends one full weekend then dropping off baby in the nursery the next day segue way to work and late afternoon daddy time to work again the following morning. The weekend screams at WHL or away games ushers the virus and transferring them to me.
It's altogether uncomfortable, painful, this bed bound state. My head is about to explode. Since the weather attacks with vicious implosion and I have to be alert at all times, I'll cancel the social aspect of my routine, as if it's not already vanished from the existence. The Christmas do for whatever reason would be nothing but faint hope. The omnipotent forces wouldn't allow extra time off during the holidays and January and February are not very friendly months. It's all down to planning. Will I lose any more friends as I run for cover and avoid the hoopla of the holidays? I'm not sure. Those besieged with kindness would be able to understand. As for others, I'm not that unmissable.
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