My apologies to Robert Burns' poem To a Mouse, 1786.
"The best laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft a-gley".
I had great plans for this week: write my dreadline-due articles, organise a survey in preparation for my book which is currently in the planning stages, attempt to catch up on my studying, learn German (hah!), find random MIA articles from the move, get some business cards organised... well, my to-do list is endless.
But I was all ready to get going today. I felt inspired. No procrastinating this week; I was ready to GO!
Sadly, Murphy and his sodding law had different ideas.
Yesterday, after a morning spent hanging pictures and an afternoon walking in the forest, Rhiannon complained of stomach ache.
Her face looked a bit white.
She went and sat on the toilet a few times during the late afternoon, to no avail.
Then...
"Mum, I feel sick"
"Well, get into the toilet, QUICK!"
"But I feel si..."
Oh.
Timing has never been her strong point.
Projectile vomit all over the floor. Twice. Thankfully the rest made it into the toilet. Tim cleared up the mess - I'm not sure which shocked me more; Rhiannon's spectacular puking or Tim managing to clear it up without being sick himself.
Anyway, the sickness and diarrhoea continued ALL night, poor girl. I spent the night in her room; I can't say I slept as she was moaning in her sleep and racing to the bathroom every hour.
Incredibly, we have managed nine years without a major stomach bug like this. There was a short bout of food poisoning when she was a baby (thanks to a dodgy Mr Whippy ice-cream in Dawlish... say no more), but other than that, no sickness bugs. She's had a couple of other major problems, but I'll tell you about those another time.
So. No school. This involved contacting the catering company, the bus company and of course, the school. All before 0745. Emails sorted out the school and caterers, but I still had to get hold of the bus company. Who don't speak English. I managed to get through just in time though, so all was sorted on that front.
She's currently ensconced on the sofa with a temperature and feeling very sorry for herself. Still trotting to the bathroom every hour or so, but thankfully not being sick any more. I am providing water, sympathy and lots of cuddles, between writing this.
And she will be off school tomorrow too.
So much for my plans to get going on all my work and projects this week. Manic catch-up due as soon as possible.
Oh, and the mouse?
The mouse had plans to do mouse-y things last night - pottering around the garden, doing a spot of mouse-shopping and perhaps it had a date.
But unfortunately for said mouse, Raymi the cat has recovered a little from his agoraphobia. Only when it's dark though - there is no way he will venture outside in daylight yet.
When he returned from his night-time wanderings he came with a little present. Yup, a dead mouse. Or to be more precise, half a dead mouse.
I put a sign on the door saying "Beware of the mouse" to remind me to get rid of it this morning.
I have spent today feeling rather queasy myself.