Comfortable

I’m beginning to regret my previous post, wishing I’d have left it until we felt as bad as we do today.
My thermostat is broken. It’s 15 degrees outside and I want the fan on, the only hitch being that Fur is shivering his timbers off.
I’ve been making a lot of food. Home made pizzas and stews, interspersed with cups of organic cocoa, charlotte potato wedges roasted in olive oil and lots of tea and sympathy.
If we ate so much all the time, we’d be as fat as houses. Not that I can taste much of it, or hear for that matter. I attempted to listen to some music on my iPod Nano (unscratched) earlier, but I think the neighbours heard more than I did.
Aside from scoffing, we’ve been watching DVDs into the early hours, in the hope that if we go to bed late, our nostrils will have taken a break and will stay clear long enough to enable us to drop off and not hear the monstrous snoring that follows (not me of course).
I’m still losing on the symptoms front though. Man flu is a terrible thing. Aside from causing the most voracious of appetites, it also creates the urge to laugh one’s socks off continuously at the likes of Billy Connolly.
I can merely aspire to feeling so ill.