So Easter Sunday was going to be a quiet one. I was going to try and crack on (no pun intended) with the second draft of my novel, while the other half contolled the tv, before a few drinks to celebrate a friend's birthday later.
This has changed somewhat. The other half pulled his back on the golf course this morning and is now in agony. How do I know this? Well, it's pretty evident from the moans and groans every time he moves.
The problem is I am the world's worst, and probably least sympathetic, nurse. Sure, I'm happy to dish out the painkillers, I'll even make dinner, wash and dry the pots and put them away without complaining. You may even hear the odd "Ah." or "How are you feeling?", but really this is as far as it extends.
You see, I'm a woman (at the risk of upsetting any men out there) and, without sounding too much like a cliche, we really do just get on with things. Don't get me wrong, I had Man-Flu a couple of weeks ago (I can claim it was Man-Flu, becuase I caught it from a man!) and for a WHOLE DAY I only moved from sofa to visit the bathroom and refil my cuppa. The fact that I did nothing all day did not go unnoticed, although the fact that I had been to work all week with said diesease evidently did.
So sympathy is in very low supply today I'm afraid, but every cloud has a silver lining and, while the other half is laid up in bed with a bad back, I get control of the tv ;-)