It turns out that you can’t get a sick note to cover you for household jobs
DOUBLE TROUBLE FOR A FIRST-TIME DAD OF TWINS
SO, our two-car holiday strategy paid off.
I came home three days earlier from Victoria’s mum’s house to carry out some traditionally male tasks, while Victoria stayed with the twins and her mum, to enjoy the seaside.
My plan was to complete the lifting, moving and boxing before enjoying the lifestyle of an unemployed 19-year-old by eating junk food, hanging around the house and drinking lager while watching action films.
The first task on the list was baby-proofing and involved me moving everything up a couple of feet, leaving all the surfaces in the house awash with bric-a-brac.
Technically, that was my job finished. It was up to a higher power to decide what the next step was.
Task number two was loading plastic boxes with things we don’t use or need and putting them in the loft.
The perceptive amongst you would say ‘why keep something you don’t need?’ but one box contained a Sega Megadrive games console, which I want to save for the twins.
This is a charming sentiment on my part, but I fear they’ll want a Sony PlayStation 10, equipped with laser swords to kill holographic zombies, rather than bounce a hedgehog through a tunnel.
I was filling boxes fairly quickly when I was suddenly overcome with a sense of weariness and found myself perspiring like a black bear in the desert with a pituitary disorder.
The thought of Victoria saying ‘what exactly have you done while I was away?’ spurred me on to put more rubbish we didn’t need in boxes we’d never open.
I was about to release the loft ladders when I realised I had a headache, felt nauseous and a sore lower back.
And there’s no delicate way of putting this, but I was urinating in a peculiar fashion. Not standing on my head peculiar, but suddenly, often and of varying quantities.
A trip to the doctor beckoned.
The diagnosis was prostatitis, a bacterial infection of the prostate common in the over forties. I was given antibiotics, instructions to drink plenty of water, no alcohol and rest. As the doctor spoke, I saw all the boxes on the landing and pictured Victoria’s face, so I asked for a sick note. Explaining that she wasn’t technically my employer, although did seem to be assuming a management role, I realised the party was over. Living like a teenager, even for a day, was no longer an option although I’m determined to make the most of being a sick man in his forties, which involves a similar amount of ‘downtime’.