Numbers

• The number of people I coughed over on the way to the doctor's surgery: about 24 (a near full bus)

• The number of times I have exceeded the dosage recommended by my doctor in an effort to expedite this lurgy's departure: three

• The number of phone interviews I have had to end prematurely because of a coughing fit: two

• The number of hot lemon and honey drinks I have consumed in the past 24 hours: five

• The weight I have lost: none, as far as I can make out. Goddamit, shouldn't existing on nothing but drugs and hot lemon beverages have some kind of positive impact?

• The number of times I have played the woe-is-me game: too many to count. 

I can't believe I was so whiney about the heat in India last month. If those beardy science types would just hurry up and develop a tardis so I can be transported back there now, I would be ever so grateful...

Better

It wasn't pretty but thanks to a weekend spent mainly in bed, and to a diet of Lemsip and Robitussin, I have managed to crawl out from the under the sickness blanket.

I'm still not feeling 100% and should probably be lying on the couch, mainlining Vitamin C and overdosing on Orange is the New Black, but there is work to be done and people to interview and photoshoots to attend. And so, like those annoying adverts for flu meds, I shall soldier on.

Today's visuals are of these gorgeous, if somewhat confused, white roses from my garden. It's WINTER, ya'll, you SHOULDN'T be blooming so pretty and white.

But at least it gives me the chance to play the denial game - that it's still summertime and that I'm not actually wearing 10 layers of clothing and chugging cough syrup but wandering lazily through a sun-lit meadow in a pretty slip of a dress with a chilled glass of rose.

This here folks is exactly what happens when you pay scant attention to the 'do not exceed' warnings on the side of flu and cold medication.

  

Lurgy

The viruses I have been incubating since travelling with a sick photographer last Friday (thanks, Neil!) have finally come out to play.

I have spent most of the day alternating between  moaning quietly and rolled up in the foetal position yelling, "I have too much work to do. I don't have time to be sick!"

I had a couple of urgent copywriting pieces I needed to file, which I did, but in my befuddled state, God knows what they're like.

There will no bach this weekend, no red wine marathon and no dinner with friends; instead, I will be stuck in bed with my laptop and my trusty canine companion.

Today's visuals are of more cute dogs from Tumblr; don't judge, this is about as creative as it gets around here right now...

       

Yesterday's Travel Talk

Was saved for me by my lovely neighbour Jen, as I was too ill to climb out of my sickbed to get a DominionPost. It features the tireless animal rights advocate, Hans Kriek (click here to read). A nicer chap than this would be hard to find.

In other news, the lurgy is still plotting my downfall; it had better be gone by tomorrow as I have drinks with the Mt Vic Vixens on Friday night and a wedding on Saturday.

I have spent the past two days consuming my bodyweight in flu medication, lemon and honey drinks and anything in the bathroom cupboard that vaguely looks like it might help. On reflection, swallowing the wildly out-of-date malaria tablet may not have been my best decision ever but, in my defence, it looked as though it was a member of the Panadol family. And as I haven't broken out in a cold sweat, or grown a third arm yet, it appears there is no harm done.    

Sick

Last night we braved a sudden downpour for a doggie walking group dinner at the exceedingly dog friendly Beach Babylon.

This morning I woke up with a sore throat, runny nose and the shivers. I now have the tissue box on lockdown. I coughed my way through a phone interview with the founder of a think-tank, wrote a media release for a client, filed two freelance stories and am now ready to go back to bed. Am hoping against hope I can make the running group tonight.

Today's visual is of his wee guy, who is cuddled against me, glad that his Mama has time to lie down during the middle of the day.

Happy

I am anything but today - my throat is swollen and my limbs hurt and I keep breaking out in a cold sweat.

I am too busy and have too many commitments to succumb to this hateful lurgy. In an effort to send it on its way, I am about to mainline lemon, honey and ginger and take to my bed with some work. Wish me luck.

In the meantime, I may be channelling my inner grumpy cow today but this song by Pharrell Williams never fails to make me smile. Plus it's a crazy ass ear-worm - one listen and it will be velcroed to your cranium for days.

Go home winter, you're drunk

I'm feeling delicate.

Tiredness is scratching the inside of my eyelids and the familiar hand of the flu is trying to wrap itself around my throat. I am over the cold and the dark and cannot wait for this month to be over so that Spring can come bounding out of the barn doors.

I've got too much work to fall prey to this virus and the race against the clock has started - to break the world-record for deadline beating before we visit the parentals in Oz in three weeks.

No time for visuals today except this one of His Highness which the Animator snapped this weekend. Hark at him (the dog, not the husband) lolling around on my new duvet cover. Seriously, I want his life...