Boo hoo

I'm sick. And I went to work knowing the rule that taking sick leave following a public holiday requires a medical certificate - and I only have a cold which is nothing to trot off to the doctors about so I thought that'd be ridiculous. But consequently I went snuffling about and sharing the germs with everybody. It was OK sitting around in the heating till about 2:30 pm, when I really would have liked a nap, and then walking home in the dark. (Turns out my heroics were probably unnecessary, as they only implement that rule if you have a habit of crying sick, which I don't.)

I sucked through a whole packet of soothers at the onset of this in bed during Sunday night and should have just got up to watch us hopelessly lose the soccer given how much time I spent awake and getting in and out of bed. My usual line is that I don't get colds, but I was forced yesterday to admit that this one got me. Tonight I figured that if I was going to be sick I was going to go all out, so I bought chicken soup.

But you'll all be pleased to know that my mystery black eye did disappear the way it came. It started fading fast on Saturday and was all but invisible on Sunday. I'm hoping this cold follows the example.

Meanwhile, some of us could see this coming. Remember Cate Blanket's - I mean Blanchett's - dress? Well look at these pyjamas from Peter Alexander. A girl at work pointed these out to me today. They're not even real crochet, which would be hideously uncomfortable, but fake prints (I couldn't figure out how to get a picture here, so you'll just have to click through and see it to believe it).