Sunday, November 9, 2014

#SickDayAdventures - When the body's feelin' blue, it's soup to the rescue

I am not exaggerating when I say that contracting a flu, or flu like symptoms, can put you in the quarantine zone in my house. The quarantine regulations are as strict as a zombie quarantine - zero contact. I landed with a flu! It was contracted from my infected brother who had confined himself to the Dungeon and I was the one on duty for his bed and breakfast services. Moral of the story: Don't interact with an infected zombie in your Dungeon. Period! 
Our quarantine code has been effective since 1986 perhaps - ever since my mother had her first kid that is me. The code implies that the infected person's cups, plates, spoons, forks, bowls, glasses, clothes, sitting area, and practically their existence is isolated until further notice. 
So while I dealt with a throat as prickly as crushed glass, a heavy, spinning head, and body aches, the quarantine was implemented. Now, quarantining me is like provoking civil war at my place because I am part of the Kitchen Unit and am also the Family Chauffeur. The suspension of my services until further notice comes as a major cardiac arrest for my mother and all the workload topples down on my Bestie Sara. Sara is a hundred times better home manager than I can ever be, but our mother does not like change. 
So, the riffraff began as she started hallucinating that Bestie was giving her less portion of ice cream after dinner. Ta-da! It was "Off with her head" for Bestie, and she quivered like Mr. Rabbit. But I was no less than a Mad Hatter (It Really Doesn't Matter! When You're The Mad Hatter!) and supervised the precise portion of the ice cream.

I wasn't allowed to touch the milk carton, or the container of oatmeal. So, Bestie helped me make oats early morning. I am very serious about my morning oatmeal, let me tell you. Bestie calls it Granny's breakfast but I'd love being Granny Abbie ever single morning.

There were also magical bowls of soup that she made for me every day. That's my quarantined spoon up there in the bowl. Those soups cured me! I am sure of that!
MORAL OF THE STORY:
A MAGICAL SOUP MADE BY A MAGICAL SISTER IS NECESSARY TO HEAL FLU.

1 comment:

  1. I love you Bestie :D I'm surprised I didn't catch it!

    ReplyDelete

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