I have, at the moment, a throat that feels like it is blocked by a razor blade encrusted grapefruit. I have a HUGELY irritating tickly cough which caused much alarm to a sixth former yesterday when I went into a purple-faced coughing fit and did a bit of gasping for breath in a 'help-me-I'm-suffocating' kind of way. I am headachey, ear-achey and thoroughly fed up with rising in the dark to go to work and travelling home in the dark, and therefore I am battling the urge to embrace my inner bear by taking to my cave and bloomin' well hibernating until pancake day.
Also, I almost set fire to a cat the other day, but that is a different story.
The only things keeping me sane at the moment are:
a) snuggling by the woodburning stove every evening and reading through my lovely new stash of lovely books, swapping occasional chatty moments with my lovely hubbie
b) ...er...okay, that's it.
Bit sad, really.
Of course, there are plenty of things I COULD be doing in order to cheer my soul and block out the misery of January, because that is what it is (and don't anyone DARE to say, 'oh, but January is lovely because...' as I shan't be listening), but my mojo is waving at me from a looooong way away and also blowing big fat raspberries because it doesn't have a horrid hacking cough. It is looking disgustingly slim and healthy, my mojo. Pah!
Andy says, 'Have an afternoon nap. That'll perk you up.' Andy is good at having afternoon naps. He can drop off to sleep like a yo-yo from a cliff, but I can't. I have always found it difficult to sleep during the day. So even though I was desperate for a zzzzzzz this afternoon, and got as far as wrapping myself in my favourite blanket rug and nestling into an armchair, did I snooze? No, I did not. I read a sewing magazine and fended off two cats who love my favourite blanket rug as much as I do and wanted to bury themselves in it. Did I mention I almost set fire to a cat the other day? Burning fur is a very unpleasant scent.
I rescued some pots of hyacinths from a garden centre 50% off sale bench the other day. Brought them home, popped 'em on the kitchen window sill which is the only place in the house that gets any decent light in grim and miserable January, and they have grown about 5 inches in as many days! Whoosh! Like little green rockets they are! I am hoping for flowers by this time next week. That'll be nice. Love the scent of hyacinths. They are sharing the window with an amaryllis bulb which I got for Christmas. The instructions said, 'Place in bright light and keep watered.' I am doing this. I think it is starting to grow. I think. I haven't had any amaryllis experience before. I am sure it will be marvellous when it happens.
So, at the weekend the woodburner was blazing away and Phoebe and Flora Bijou Mybug were in their usual positions stretched out head to head in front of it as close as they could get without actually climbing inside. And I went to put on another log, which involved elbowing my way through the swathes of feline barrier. I opened the door, and before I could shove another log inside, a fairly substantial piece of ember rocketed from within and landed on Flora's extended left paw. She didn't notice, Phoebe didn't notice (because she was asleep and, at nearly 19 years old, notices NOTHING when in the land of nod), but I noticed because of the smell of burning fur. I went to swipe the ember from Flora's paw, Flora eyed my swiping hand in the manner of, 'Oooh! Are we having a game of 'Savage the Hand That Feeds Me?' and I said, 'No! You're smouldering!' and she said,'It's my natural animal allure,' and I said, 'No, you fool and will you sit still so I can get this burning ember off you,' and she said, 'What burning ember?' then noticed her foot and went berzonkers crazy and accused me of setting fire to her. Phoebe stayed asleep through all this action which didn't help as she hindered my cat extinguishing efforts somewhat. It was, all in all, a rather stressful 6.2 seconds.
You'll be pleased to know that FBM is okay. She has incredibly thick and, as it transpires, fire retardant fur on her kitten feet. Barely a singe although the ensuing scent of burning would have you believe otherwise. It didn't take her long to return to her fire gazing position.
And that, I reckon, is about as exciting as January is EVER likely to get.