Every bone in my body aches. Even the roots of my teeth ache.
There is snot pouring out of me and I am hearing like my head is under water.
I am sure I must have swallowed razor blades…. except that I can’t swallow at all.
My finger nails are sore and the hair on my head is giving me grief.
I have a cough and a head ace and my right pinky toe is probably broken.
I have a pimple on my bum that I am sure must be cancer.
I might, possibly, be going blind too… maybe.
It’s all because of those pesky children who deliberately coughed of me so they could share their feral germs. They did it on purpose, I know it.
I probably have swine flu, or bird flu, or SAARS, or pneumonia.
Or possibly some lethal combination of all four.
I am sure I am dying.
Yep, it’s definitely Man Flu…..
Except that I’m not sleeping for 20 hours a day.
Nor am I laying pathetically on the couch for the other four hours, feebly croaking my demands for lemonade not water, and could someone possibly get me a vegemite sandwich with the crusts cut off?
I’m also not making unrealistic requests to kindly get rid of the kids, because their noise is making my ears bleed….
I am still getting up to take the girls to school.
I am still cooking dinner and feeding everyone.
I am still washing clothes and sweeping the floor.
There is no doctors certificate that will get me a day off work so I am still doing all the stuff I need to do.
Hmm… so it can’t possibly be Man Flu then?
So I don’t have SAARS?
I’m not really dyeing?
It must just be a bit of a cold….
Well then, I feel better already!
Above photo by Jeremy Burgin via flickr… and in case you missed the sarcasm, I am not really dying so don’t panic Mum! Oh, and Father Figure… I love you, even when you are dying.