Being desperately ill over the past few weeks has lead to two things. Well two more significantly than the rest, long hours of lazing on the coach in front of the TV and a mostly liquid diet. And now the constant viewing of junk food and take away advertisements and a severe lack of solids has made true of the saying desperate times call for desperate measures.
On Sunday night, after an hour of Desperate Housewives and therefore around 15 minutes intermittently of Heaven caramel chocolate ads, I cracked. I roused myself from the hovel of blankets and empty tea cups I’d spend all week hiding amongst, trudged to the local corner store and purchased two blocks of Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate which I proceeded to gorge on in the hope of inducing a thoroughly toxic sugar coma.
On Monday an over load of KFC ads lead to a 20 minute phone call of pleading and despair, trying to convince a friend to drive the half hour distance between our houses to bring me a Zinger burger combo meal, purchased from the KFC around the corner from my home. After miserable failure I quickly dismissed the option of actually walking to buy it myself and settled for canned soup and toast. But this got me thinking about something I’ve often heard people complaining about, why don’t they deliver? I’d pay good money to have a bucket of their deliciously greasy deep fried chicken (and maybe a DVD or two) brought to me on demand.
Classes and doctors appointments on Tuesday meant my attention was dragged away from daytime made for TV movies and while out and about for the first time in quite a while I had the opportunity to duck into the supermarket. With full intentions of purchasing fresh fruits and vegetables, from the depths of my shopping basket were soon visible the colourful labels of double chocolate ice cream and Snakes Alive.
Unfinished...cos I'm sick ....and lazy. Sorry. Bessie.
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