La petite pauvre

I'm writing this from what might well turn out to be my death-bed. I have the flu, and I bloody hate it. I haven't had the flu in ages and I'm terrible at being sick. Even though I'm mad lazy, I still like to be able to get up and do whatever I need to do, without feeling like I'm literally falling apart.

Bah.

I slept for about thirteen hours yesterday evening, into this morning. And I've only gotten out of bed to hack up a lung and use the facilities. At least Mr Bunny is looking after me...sort of. He slept on the settee last night, so he wouldn't get sick, which is fair enough. But this morning he came up to check up on me, and he asked me if I wanted anything. So I said I'd like some tonic water and a cup of tea. He vanished downstairs and I've only just seen him, three hours later. So he's being dispatched to the shop to fetch me some Lucozade.

But he needs to hurry back, because our new washing machine comes today and I'm in no state to let anyone in. At least I have my new telly in my bedroom, so I'm here watching a Colombo marathon, in between bouts of conciousness. So, not all bad then...

Crackhead life, take two

So we've just moved into our new house and it all feels a bit surreal. I mean, we've never had this sort of space before, so that's weird. But the estate is lovely and it's great to be back in Preston again. The only downside is that we're back to living like crackheads. It's not as bad as boiling water in a pan, but we have no sofa and up until last night we had no curtains. So the marish and the parish could see into our living room and the fact that we haven't hung the telly yet and are sitting on dining room chairs and a pouffe. We also didn't bring up our entertainment unit (couldn't be arsed packing it up) so the DVD player and DVR are on the floor next to the telly. Before we got curtains, Mr Bunny suggested we hang a blanket over the balcony door, seemingly oblivious to the fact that this would be the pinnacle of the crackhead lifestyle. And this was one achievement I felt it would be ok to let pass me by.

Getting the curtains was painful enough. It involved a lot of shouting (both of us, but mostly me), foot stamping (me), cursing (both of us) and name calling (me). It was so infuriating. I just wanted to punch Mr Bunny square in the middle of the face. He thinks he's decorating some cool bachelor pad in a city centre, while I'm obviously looking to decorate a family home. But once I unleash my secret weapons (a shrill voice and the opinions of others), he's powerless to resist. So now we have curtains and can at least hide our crackheadness from public view.

But we still have no sofa (left the old one in Crewe. Couldn't be arsed faffing about, getting it out of the flat and up these stairs), no landline or broadband, the vendors left a load of garbage in the back garden that I really don't want to touch and last night Mr Bunny was testing out paint samples on the wall, so there's now two blots of colour on an otherwise pristine, white wall. Sigh.

But at least I still live up North, so I don't have to change the name of this blog.