I’ve been sick for the past few days. Have you ever noticed that if a whole family comes down with the same virus, they will all be affected differently? One (the baby) will sneeze all day long and have an insatiable appetite; another (Sweetie) will be slightly more tired than usual; someone else (Henry) will cry a lot and have a runny nose which he will wipe on your face as often as possible; and you (me) will run a fever for two days, cough up a lung and a half, and find yourself unable to face any food more complicated than dry toast.

Most of the time I don’t mind being a stay-at-home-mother. Sure, it’s boring at times, and some of the stuff you end up doing, such as dishwashing and diaper-changing and bathing small grubby children, is less than fulfilling, but I get enough free time to work on my own stuff, plus a daily nap, and children are occasionally fun to be around. It’s not a permanant career; also, I have had much worse jobs. Once I had a job where I had to transcribe corporate memos into motivational posters – one of my finest read, “EXCELLENCE IS ONLY FACILITATED BY EXCELLENCE!” Taking care of babies is much easier than doing that all day.

Probably the worst part of being a housewife is that you don’t get sick days. Also, you can’t hire someone to come babysit in another room while you lie in bed slurping jello and reading weepy books, because no one wants to be near your disgusting sick kids except maybe their grandparents, and if they live six thousand miles away, well, you’re stuck.

Anyway, I am feeling much better now and will soon return to dazzle you with my thoughts on The Dispossessed, an Echwell update, and a critical examination of Sesame Street: Learning To Share!, which, having watched about ninety times over the past week, I am well-qualified to discuss.