Sick

There will be no photos for this post. Believe me, you don't want one. Flattie (hitherto referred to as "I." to protect her privacy) and I are sitting in our luxurious new apartment which we have finally moved into. We have also finally removed the glittery pink curtain from the lavender coloured little girls' room I. is attempting to introduce some sophistication into. We had to ditch the bunk beds we were sleeping in and succumb to the hell of IKEA to buy some proper beds in an attempt to feel older than 12. (A rite of passage I think, building IKEA furniture with real Swedes! And believe me, the pieces don't fit together properly for them either).

But alas, for the last three days, we have done nothing. Struck down by a terrible autumnal illness, food has become the highlight of our day.

So far we have gone through a pasta bake, a large pot of goulash, several packets of hot chocolate, 4 fruit smoothies, a burrito, 4 mini Haagen Dasz icecream tubs (Belgian Chocolate, Cookies n Cream, Strawberry Shortcake and Toffee Cream), about a gallon of chai tea, half a loaf's worth of toast and cheese, as well as devouring 3 magazines, about 10 episodes each of Friends and The Simpsons, and an accumlated 23 hours worth of utter trash TV (we were shocked that Kate Moss is only No. 6 on the list of the world's top 10 supermodels - I mean, what is the world coming to?). I. has also developed obsessive-compulsive cleaning disorder (which, while it's annoying her, is quite good in the long run considering the amount of mess our food consumption is generating).

Of course meanwhile I've managed to dabble in a little work to save the world (please please tell Iceland to stop commercial whaling, for goodness sake). I think it's safe to say though that for the next few days, the world will have to turn by itself. Besides, if I get better tomorrow, how will I know who Gisele Bundchen is dating now?