I’m sorry that I haven’t made an entry for a few weeks, but I haven’t been feeling very well. I had the flu or a virus – something that made me sneeze a lot, anyway. You have no idea how messy it can be when a Zombie sneezes: snot, blood and body parts everywhere. Politely saying “excuse me” hardly seems adequate.
Thank God we were able to put Pittsburgh in the crèche. Her nagging at me as I cleaned up the projectiles that issued from my nose and mouth would have been just too much to take. That said, she liked to play with the snot and blood I expelled – and really saw no difference between it and the hand paints she normally uses to make a mess.
I felt really down when I was sick and wallowing in my misery.
One day, Barbara came home after a hard day’s work at the office and, as I flicked TV channels, I moaned, “Is this what life is all about?”
“Yes,” she replied, dropping the shopping to the floor as she manoeuvred the pram in through the front door, “But what have you got to complain about – you’re dead.”
“That only means, unlike you, I don’t have the option to kill myself.”
“Well, you could try,” she said.
“I need to go wee-wee,” said Pittsburgh.
Neither of them know what true suffering is.