Friday. Sunny. Endless blue skies and puffy white clouds that you only see in kids' drawings and on The Simpsons' set. It was warm out. Perth had not seen such glorious weather in weeks. The housewife in me screamed to get my laundry done and sunned.
Instead, hubby and I piled in the car and armed with the street directory, made our way across the city to....
....the doctor's.
It was Day 4 of my flu and I was feeling worse than before. Fearing the worst of the season's flu, hubby had asked, “Do you feel piggy?... Then it's not swine flu.”
Doctor did the usual – temperature, swelling of tonsils, stethoscope, look into ears and throat – then pronounced a respiratory tract infection. “It's a cold, not a flu in any form.” He then proceeded to tell me what to do to avoid taking medicine – plenty of rest and fluid. (As a last resort for my cough, he suggested an over-the-counter cough syrup.) I love Aussie doctors!
Two beautiful days (perfect for a barbe, or a picnic in the park, or a walk) were spent in bed – sleeping and reading. *sigh*
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