I was the lucky recipient of the 24 hour stomach bug floating around Himself's offices on Saturday. Woke up fine, accepted delivery of the carpet cleaning machine I'd arranged earlier in the week, started the living room while Himself struggled bravely on through his own dose of sickishness, and (thankfully) only started feeling really ill once I'd finished.
That said, I was only really feeling the effects for about six hours. Six of the longest hours of my life. *lol* I took a (very) long bath, then once things calmed down I ate a (very) little dinner and slept for a (very) long time. By Sunday, I was close to right as rain. Plus, I got to wake up to a clean smelling living room, and the carpets feel seriously lovely on bare feet now.
The cats? Not pleased. Not pleased at all. They spent rather a lot of time cowering in the bedroom with Himself while I sweated and swore over the machine in the living room, and have since insisted upon spending inordinate amounts of time rolling around in the floor, trying to get their smell back into the carpets. I believe they're also annoyed with me for taking down the drapes from the bay doors to wash and hem them. Those drapes are the stage for many a pitched battle between moggies, and the hems are markedly shredded from the occasional claw that misses its intended target, i.e. its owner's sister's face. Or butt, as the case may be.
This weekend, prospective tummy bugs aside, I intend to do some work in the garden. And get around to actually hemming the now-washed curtains. And clean off my chest of drawers. And the desk in the bedroom. And clear out old books. And... well, you get my drift. Let's see how much I actually get done. Let's hope there's nothing good on TV. *grin*
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