A grim day in.
I was supposed to be out tonight, but I'm full of cold and not feeling too well. Instead, I've been puttering in the boys' room and moving furniture. Why is it I always want to rearrange things when I'm ill and then I'm surprised when, shivering and tired, I fall exhausted into a chair? It's like I only get inspired when I'm in the throes of a fever. Never mind, it's a grey Saturday and I'm alone with three children while my DH goes to football. At least the flowers I bought last week are still cheerful. I hope they make me feel better, too.
Hopefully after bedtime I can sit in peace and watch a comfort film. Something soft and fluffy like You've got mail. Or perhaps Outbreak. I always used to watch that when I wasn't well before I had kids. Watching a lot of people with Ebola fever had the effect of making me feel better. Strange, I know.
Or, if the DH has to watch Match of the Day (it is Saturday after all) I can read my past copies of Mary Englebreits Home Companion magazine. That, and drink a pot of good old Lancashire Tea.