I was blaming Augie Dog for the funky smell. but this morning I had to admit I was probably the major source. Three days have passed since I had the strength, or inclination to take a shower. Neglect of personal hygiene has not suddenly become a life style choice – I am down with the flu. Minerva’s flu (that is a revenge plot for another time…)
4 in the morning and Mr FD, who has moved into a spare room to try avoiding adding the flu to his knee replacement issues, was rattling in the kitchen. He had decided to make himself tea. I was informed that there was a cup there for me, but he was unable to manage cups and crutches at the same time, so it necessitated a brief vacancy of my bed. I will rise from a sick bed for a cup of tea every time.
Problem was the movement of walking and the pressure on my lungs from the few words I uttered to Mr FD sent me into a lung rattling, gut spewing coughing fit that hit without warning as I claimed my mug and so a sizeable amount of that life saving tea went across the kitchen bench.
Augie stayed bedside, where he has spent most of his time since I took to my bed Wednesday night. Yet, the fruity aroma followed me. Even in a flu haze I realised it was moi. The ricocheting fevers and chills had done their worst. Ripe.
So after dosing on every medication I could lay my hands on, I did indeed shower, and change into fresh pjs. It didn’t make me physically feel any better, but at least no one will need a gas mask to enter the bedroom now. And if I do pass, the morgue attendants won’t assume that I went into decomposition days ago!