Moses, Hazel and I have been sick multiple times over the last few months, and I’ve HAD. ENOUGH. We should now be immune to approximately 18 strains of Sydney cold virus, as well as 1 from Adelaide (unless Moses carried the Sydney bug down to Adelaide and then got sick there, in which case, SORRY ADELAIDE FRIENDS). I think it’s happening because early this year, when it was Alan catching everything, I may have said, “I’m never sick! Sickness is a luxury I can’t afford!” or something equally self-righteous. Turns out I’m actually rolling in sickness dollars, and I can afford a whole lotta germs. (Alan hasn’t had a full-on cold since then, I don’t think.) So Mo, Hazel and I have been keeping Kleenex in business all by ourselves. Moses had his first cold when he was 10 months old; poor Hazel could practically blow her own nose by that age.
I currently have no voice, gunky eyes and two blocked ears, which means I whisper at people and they say, “Pardon?“ and then they whisper back (it’s weird to talk at a normal volume when someone's whispering to you, I’ve been told), and I say “Pardon?“ My conversations last for hours at the moment.
For a long time, I was trying to make sure I was in bed by 9:30pm, but I’d always be in bed at 10pm, and then, after feeling guilty about it for a while, I thought, “Why bother trying so hard to be in bed earlier when 10pm is obviously the time I naturally make it to bed?“ So I changed my bedtime to 10pm and now I go to bed at 11pm.
I think I’ll aim for 9:30pm again. I need the sleep.