The dreaded man-flu has struck the house and it has been interfering with my writing. My husband has been sick a week, two full days with a fever and the rest full of boogers.
His cronies suggest he head to CAISES for an “inyeccion.” I’m opposed. First, because he’d have to sit around all day with a bunch of sick people and probably bring another strain of the virus into the house. Second, because it won’t cure the flu.
Instead, I put him to bed with chicken bone broth soup, garlic tea and onions in his socks. He claims to be feeling much better but you know the man-flu. It tends to linger.
His illness has put a hold on our remodeling projects, but only temporarily. The carpenter is supposed to come next week for the final project unless he too has come down with the man-flu.
Meanwhile, I’ve locked myself away in The Little House in Sunflower Valley to try and get some work done.