An extra hour in bed this morning to get stuck into the new Dan Brown, then a gentle gathering of receipts and invoices before moving downstairs to boot up my new Notebook.
Hopefully fortified by a Double Chocca Mocha and a slice of toast with cashew nut butter (tried it yet...OMG it's delicious) I could tackle my new Sage Accounting programme (that's why I needed 3 days!!!). A break around 10ish to nip across the road to the garden centre for a birthday pressie, then head down, full tilt for the rest of the day and Thursday.
HOWEVER! As I staggered to the bathroom in the dark this morning I thought 'How odd' (I did!) U-oh, the first stirrings of panic, is He not getting up? He's not dead, I'm sure He's not dead,I felt him shuffling about in bed...back to peer at the LED alarm, 05.48, is He not getting up????
'Alright love?' I asked ( is He not getting up?) 'Poorly!' He said (bugga, He's not getting up).
Now I feel guilty, cos he really is full of a nasty cold and he will stay in bed (he isn't a martyr when he's ill) but I'm a motherer - I can't help it . I need to supply warm tea, toast (no cashew nut butter though), paracetamol, comfort & sympathy, check his fevered brow and generally make him feel desperate to go back to work! I'll feel guilty if I get sucked into work & forget he's there so I'll not get stuck in as much as I should and then feel equally guilty for not focusing! Deep eh?
Anyhoo, I'm going to give it a go. He's pretty hot on Sage so at least I've a captive advisor if I'm really stuck and I do love having him at home...honest I do! HONEST!