Sunday, August 29, 2004

What are the odds of being sick on a bank holiday? One in a million.

My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton, and I've got a headache and I'm full of aches and pains and I'm a sicky.

Lemsip maximum strength is my new best friend. So delightful and soothing and hot and lemony. If I could marry a medication, I think it might be this one. The only thing that's let me down is the whole "5 packets per box" thing. That means I'm actually going to have to go outside and get more. Why doesn't the off-licence near my flat deliver? Is that too much to ask?

And how much of a rip-off is it to be sick on a long weekend? That's absolutely outrageous. I'm so not okay with this. Yesterday, I was supposed to go and have lovely drinks in the afternoon, but did I? No, I did not. I stayed in bed and watched multiple episodes of Charmed on Living. (Oh, that Cole. Will he ever learn?)

I'm currently debating whether or not I have the energy to get out of bed and do something today. Right now, I'm leaning more towards the "no" side of that one.

I blame the poetry flat for this. Well, I have no real reason to do that, but I did get sick after getting back from Edinburgh. That's enough proof for me.

Being sick sucks.

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