mybackup2022 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mybackup2022) wrote2008-10-06 08:24 am
mybackup2022) wrote2008-10-06 08:24 am
Fate and its strange idea of irony
Remember the stink I kicked up when there was reason to doubt I'd get my holiday?
Well, I got my holiday, and Janine came, and everything went as planned. Until yesterday, that is. I didn't feel too well in the morning tummy-wise, and things didn't get better. Janine woke up at around noon, and she didn't feel too well either. Within a few hours, it was clear that a) we'd both caught some virus and b) the thought of leaving the house had receded to the realm of impossibility. I'd got the diarrhoea and she the vomiting end of the virus, and I'd also developed a slight fever.
So I called the hotel and told them we weren't going to arrive that evening, and that I'd notify them if/when we'd come.
Things seem to be slightly better today, so flying tomorrow might be a possibility. If we get a flight that is.
Ze boyz are totally pleased, though. Two humans for them to sit on, four hands to cuddle them.
Maybe it was meant to be a boyz-holiday right from the beginning, and I just misplanned?
In any case, we're taking it philosophically - in a flat with three loos you can do that easily. Besides, sickness shared with your best friend is almost fun. Last night, we were eating boiled rice and watching Coupling. It could be worse.
ETA: OK, fate has it in for us. Janine's tax consultant called and told her that for reasons unknown (though probably the bank crash and all-around jitters) her bank decided they won't give any more loans for building projects. Since the conversion of her attic has just started, she has to go back to Vienna and negotiate a loan with another bank. Not today, but probably on Wednesday.
It's a good thing we've both got a healthy sense of humour. We actually laughed.
Well, I got my holiday, and Janine came, and everything went as planned. Until yesterday, that is. I didn't feel too well in the morning tummy-wise, and things didn't get better. Janine woke up at around noon, and she didn't feel too well either. Within a few hours, it was clear that a) we'd both caught some virus and b) the thought of leaving the house had receded to the realm of impossibility. I'd got the diarrhoea and she the vomiting end of the virus, and I'd also developed a slight fever.
So I called the hotel and told them we weren't going to arrive that evening, and that I'd notify them if/when we'd come.
Things seem to be slightly better today, so flying tomorrow might be a possibility. If we get a flight that is.
Ze boyz are totally pleased, though. Two humans for them to sit on, four hands to cuddle them.
Maybe it was meant to be a boyz-holiday right from the beginning, and I just misplanned?
In any case, we're taking it philosophically - in a flat with three loos you can do that easily. Besides, sickness shared with your best friend is almost fun. Last night, we were eating boiled rice and watching Coupling. It could be worse.
ETA: OK, fate has it in for us. Janine's tax consultant called and told her that for reasons unknown (though probably the bank crash and all-around jitters) her bank decided they won't give any more loans for building projects. Since the conversion of her attic has just started, she has to go back to Vienna and negotiate a loan with another bank. Not today, but probably on Wednesday.
It's a good thing we've both got a healthy sense of humour. We actually laughed.
no subject
Self Assembly
‘Crucio!’
Pettigrew writhed on the polished parquet floor, his hands tucked under his double chin in an attitude of supplication.
‘Crucio!’
The rat convulsed, bloody foam issuing from the corner of his mouth. Small metallic objects slid and rolled away from his body. Voldemort raised his hands theatrically, his wand held delicately between thumb and forefinger in preparation for another Unforgiveable. Then he stepped back and waited for his servant to regain consciousness.
Eventually, Pettigrew coughed and reached a trembling silver hand for his chestnut wand. ‘Forgive me for failing you, Master! Perhaps I could floo-call the IKEA assembly service?’
no subject