sickness

An inauspicious start to the week; some evilly profligate virus decided to make me its target du jour, the result being that I spent much of Monday and Tuesday hawking up disgustingly vivid yellow green globules from the depths of my lungs, to name one fascinating hobby I acquired over the past two days.

Fevers are annoying things which make it impossible to get comfortable. Jumping from being too hot to too cold is a needless torture. Also falling under the banner of cruel and unusual is how dry ones skin becomes; especially the section right under the nose, which is subjected to repeated scrapings of not always soft tissue paper.

Following the advice of the imaginary doctor I consumed copious amounts of water, ignoring the fact that I’m not fond of water at the best of time. Hot lemonade, a traditional staple for the sick in my house, was no where to be found.

The bottle of sticky ooze, promising to send even the most coughing-and-turning’est to a land of wakeless slumber failed to live up to its promise. In fact under its influence I think I had a slightly worse sleep, thus shattering my once infallible view of modern pharmaceutics.

I think complaining loudly helped most of all; that and boxed sets of The Simpsons, which would help cure all but death. Annoyingly, because I am paid for actual hours worked, next weeks pay will be correspondingly ratty.

It all seems very fickle; I go through winter without a sniffle, but no sooner has spring arrives then I get sick.

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