infantile request

sicko © Raffaella Loro

When I am ill I sometimes wish I could return to a state of infancy. I can no longer handle solid foods, I like to be swaddled in blankets and nestled close to a beating heart (although these days I would prefer that beating heart to be behind a nicely muscled chest rather than a soft and pillowy one). Alas, only two of these things are possible at the moment. I have soup to solve my inability to eat solid foods and I have copious bedding with which to wrap myself up in (although it's a bit too hot for that today). If someone wants to lend me a muscled chest for an hour or two I wouldn't complain. My hair, although a bit disheveled is very silky and lovely to pat.

Oh ho ho.

My one consolation is that being sick has not stripped me of my bitter sense of humour. That I keep with me from cradle to grave. From womb to tomb.