Send Grade-A Pity! Save A Housewife Today!

For Lent this year I’ve been thinking of giving up leaning.  I’m also giving up having a filthy, horrible cur of a cold but I haven’t made a very good start at it.

“Half the town is down with it!” so they say. The other half, smugly, isn’t.  The problem children and I are in the woebegotten half of town, on the wrong sides of the tracks of pestilence.  The girls got it a week ahead of me and are getting over it now, but my head still leaks, a jaggedy bit of serrated virus is trying to saw my uvula off, and some sort of an iron giant appears to have his boot on my chest. I don’t like any of that stuff.

All I can do is lie around groaning, pasty and noodle-limp, in a foetal position, like an overcooked macaroni elbow.  Please send your best pity immediately.  And grapes.  I probably should be eating grapes or something.  They’re a good fruit in a tragedy.

Anyway, I’ll be waiting wanly but bravely by the casement window, sneezing softly, my hands, now lying limply in my lap, now, fluttering delicately to the lace at my throat; waiting, waiting for all the lovely, lovely pity you’re going to send me in trendy stationary the colours of jewels.

I feel my voice fading now…I grow weak again…it is all I can do to whine and moan…farewell…farewell…achoo…farewell…

19 thoughts on “Send Grade-A Pity! Save A Housewife Today!”

  1. It’s a noble thought, the eschewing of leaning, but it would make your life far more … I hesitate to say ‘erect’ lest somebody with puerile mind raise a hand and snigger behind it … so I shall say ‘upright’.

    And while we should all strive to be upright in our dealings and day to day business I’m not sure lengthy periods of uprightitude are good for the body.

    I suspect you hardly realise how much leaning you do and only when you try not to lean will you realise how important leaning actually is. Non-leaning could be the very end of you and I’d hate to see that.

    Perhaps packing in hopping or sligging, when one drags ones feet along the ground when walking instead of lifting them like a normal person, would be better Lenten ventures.

  2. i too am giving up having a filthy, horrible cur of a cold, but i think i’ll hang on to the dramatic, rattling, i-may-or-may-not-have-TB cough. i think it lends me an air.

  3. You do noodle limp so well. The children bounce back much quicker then noodles. God is a cruel heartless women. I would bring you chicken soup and a Hello magazine, then sit by your casement window basking in the passing piteous glances, soaking in the sympathy and then squeezing it into your afternoon Bovril. I can do this for one afternoon and then I’m afraid, it’s the wire brush and dettol for you girl.

  4. I’d send you “trendy stationary the colours of jewels” but it refuses to move, being stationary. You should keep up with the leaning but the banks should give up liening, and not just for what they Lent.

    For now all I can think is that it is a very great shame that Steinbeck never wrote a sequel to The Grapes of Wrath, for if he had written The Grapes of Pity I would gladly send it to you.

  5. I must not get my uvulas and vulvas confused.
    Now Sam nothing cloggy and mucous forming like milk, cream , yoghourt etc by mouth – everything clear and fragrant like ginger , honey, lemon, garlic and clear fluids.
    Conan reminded me that someone – writing about Phillip Roth, spoke of ‘The Gropes of Roth’

  6. you poor thing! bless your heart! i would send you a get well basket, sugar, but it is lent and you know those things always have some…wait for it

    forbidden fruit!

    feel better soonest, darlin! xoxox

  7. Leaning. As in doors, countertops and sundry household objects, or more loitering with intent.
    For the cold you have my sympathy, but for God sake you are old enough once the kids are a bed to make a malt and warm water. And if you do that, sleep in the spare room for you will sweat like a horse while tossing and trashing like a grounded trout. But, You will wake in the morning with the bedclothes looking like a version of the shroud of Turin, but with the cold mostly gone.

  8. I’m not sure it’s pity you need, or stationery for that matter. I will send you green cashmere socks and a beanie hat (toning, but not matching which is too dull for you), to keep the heat in at either end so you can sweat out the noodlings. Then I will send rejoicings when you are recovered.

  9. My dear, dear Sam:

    I’m so distressed regarding your situation that I, in a fit melancholy, shall immediately repair to the veranda, there to write an Epic Poem about your situation, or perhaps a tragic play. If a poem, I shall call your snot Grendel; if a tragic play, I shall call it “Phlegmus Rex.”

    All my love, dear.

  10. leaning? I love a good lean….we waiter specialize in leaning…….awh get well soon……in other news some family members who have been living in the Shetland’s have moved to Malaysia…..from one extreme to t’other

  11. Bless yooz all! That was some top class Coumbian pity y’all sent me. I’m only now coming down. Bobbing I was! Bobbing on the pity you poured and squirted and deluged and streamed.

    But – and I don’t want to be churlish or ungrateful in any way – where was all the fancy stationary in trendy jewel colours I believe I specifically requested?

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