2001-08-04 Lucozade Aids Recovery Goddam blasted virus - I'm sick of complaining about being sick. I struggled up today, went into work and by 9pm I'm back home. The coughing fits just got too much to cope with - I would have ended up driving into something. But I'm too weak to do anything when I am home, so I just end up sitting at the pooter. I mean, my house is a mess, but starting to tidy up is just out of the question. How the hell do people with kids cope? We're having enough trouble at the moment looking after Fred and Gypsy. Even that isn't as easy as it sounds. The conversation between Sixy and myself in the supermarket yesterday went something like this: Me: "There's no Ballygowan mineral water." Sixy: "Would he drink Evian? They've got Evian." Me: "No, there's only sparkling Evian, he only likes still water." Sixy: "That means the Perrier's out as well then.What about Antrim Hills mineral water?" Me: "Well, we can get one bottle and check if they have any Ballygowan next week." This is because Fred, the cockatiel, doesn't drink tap water. Oh no, he's only ever had bottled Ballygowan mineral water. He doesn't like iceberg lettuce either - it has to be roundhead lettuce or nothing. It would probably be easier to look after Jennifer Lopez. Not much word on the whole threats issue at work either. Mind you the cops left in a cheery little booklet full of practical advice such as making sure all your doors and windows are locked at night, which I'm sure will be a big help. Yes, that was me being sarcastic. The only surprise is that it didn't have some cute name such as 'So, your life has been threatened by a t*rr*rist organisation!'. The owner of one of the other companies (a smug little git, if there ever was one), called round and left in some stickers which stated that the driver of the car wouldn't do any 'wait and return' work to local housing estates. Stickers and booklets. Whoopee fucking-do. No, booklets and stickers don't make me feel much safer. What makes me feel safer is the cheap can of body-spray and the bloody big monkey wrench in the side pocket of the driver's door. Blind 'em and bop 'em. Of course, you'll end up being prosecuted for assault, but as long as you're able to turn up at the court hearing in one piece, it ain't so bad.
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