On being ill

Today I am feeling Not Very Well and I don’t like it.

I don’t like it because I know that I am really not very ill at all, but still I can’t help complaining and making little moany noises to myself.

When it comes to other members of the family being ill, I am just about the least sympathetic person you have ever met – I just can’t be doing with it. When I am ill though, I put on this annoyingly feeble voice and make a sad face that irritates even me, and I can’t even see it.

“Put I am pooooorrrrlllllyyyy,” I will say, sounding like a whiney three year old. 

Gross.

I can see that other people have about as much sympathy for me as you have for a toddler who cries for forty minutes because they get a stone in their shoe, but still I just can’t help sticking out my bottom lip and talking in an unnecessarily hoarse voice. “But I have a sore throat!” I say, coughing a little bit.

Pull yourself together woman! I shout at myself inside my head before frowning a bit and having a little lie down on the sofa.

And now I must go, for I am too ill to type much longer and must rest my weary fingers.