Wake up to discover that my cold is gone! Could be because I spent most of Christmas Day sleeping; or maybe it was a psychosomatic, first-Christmas-as-minister, cold. Either way, I’m very happy. Less happy to be woken up by mother calling my mobile. Figure 9 am is not too late to be sleeping in on Boxing Day.
Christmas Day begins early; no surprise there. I take more Cold-and-Flu drugs, figuring that whoever is advising me not to take them for more that 48 hours has never been a minister over Christmas. Eat breakfast quickly. Shower quickly. Dress in many black layers because it’s a very cold day. Thank God for the cold and the signs of rain. A day of low bushfire risk.
Christmas Eve starts the same way as the previous two days; with coughing, snorting, sniffing, and the quick downing of two Cold-and-Flu tablets. Momentarily wonder why the box advises me not to take tablets for more than 48 hours, and yet provides me with enough tablets for 96 hours. Shrug, and head towards my seventy-second hour of doping.
Fortunately, the day improves from there.
My stepfather died a year ago today.
I miss him so much.