Urg. I feel like I'm becoming one of those complainery hypochondriacs these days. Really, we're not normally sickly people- I swear! But last weekend, Casa de Deplume became virus central once again. Friday night, the girl came down with the world's worst cold. Her ears hurt, her sinuses were going crazy, and she spent a lot of the weekend either in tears or asleep.
Saturday morning found my dear husband in the throes of some stomach bug. The boy had had it early in the week (although he certainly had a mild case), and we all thought we had managed to avoid it. The poor man was laid up for two whole days subsisting on one popsicle, ten animal crackers, one piece of toast and 2 liters of ginger ale. I haven't seen him that sick in 10 years. I managed to fight most of it off, but was definitely under the weather by Sunday night. The girl and the man both called in sick on Monday. I'm hesitant to say it, but I think we're all on the mend now.
On other fronts, the house is a total mess. The laundry (both clean-in-baskets and dirty) is piling up, and my stairway is still not finished. But I did catch up on the dishes yesterday, and tidied up my linen and clothes closets.
Last week I promised a post about a recycled sweater, but it awaits finishing. I've been unraveling while pedaling the recumbent bike in the TV room, and knitting it back up into a project while ignoring household chores the rest of the day. But the WIP is slow going. I'll post copious pictures when it is all done, I promise.
And now I shall bring this post to a close. I have to go tackle something domestic. And go buy chicken for dinner tonight, too.