Monday, February 02, 2009
I thought they were on the mend. And maybe they are, but I was smote at puke o'clock this morning, thus confirming that the universe does NOT want us to go to New Zealand, having thus far sent plague (the man's bronchitis) and pestilence (Am's sickness, which at first I thought was maybe a little brush with food poisoning, but NOT). If I could remember who the other horsemen of the apocalypse are, I'd be concerned. Is recurrent laundry one? Because I have washed more loads of sheets in the past four days...
I'm so crappy I can't even focus on the loss of a month holiday. I'm just glad I got smote when I did - because if puke o'clock had held off 12 hours, we would have all been trapped in a plane on the way to Singapore. And we were going to brave it, but the absence of all fully funtional adults means no boarding no planes, no how, no way.
At least the points we booked the flights on aren't gone (yet). We would've had to give them 22 days notice* for the points to go back to the account, so now as long as we book & fly by July, using the points which are now in some weird purgatory, it's okay.
I don't even care. I'm going to go and curl in to a ball & hope that it all goes away.
*Random. Who gives 22 days as an official policy for anything?