I think Autumn has struck me with her crinkly-leafed-finger. I woke this morning at 2am to the sound of Liz in full wail ("where's my duvet?") and as I stumbled blindly down the stairs to rescue her duvet I realised I was completely drenched in sweat. It was dripping off my nose and my non-existent cleavage resembled bonsai-sized rapids. And as I stumbled back upstairs my t-shirt got cold and my scalp tingled with chill and I fell back into my sweaty pit and then woke this morning with shivery limbs and a clonky throat.
And a few hours on, after a therapeutic trip to Sainsburys and Homebase, one coffee and a handful of grapes later, my limbs still feel shivery and my head has that under-water-what's real and what's not sort of fogginess.
Does the saying 'starve a fever, feed a cold' ring true? Thing is, I'm not all that hungry.
I wonder if I should wash my sheets? Or will I wake up in another pool of fast flowing sweat tonight? If that's the case I don't see any point in the laborious task.
I have taken my echinacea and my vitamin pills. I will take some more. I've got to get Liz to her gym class this afternoon. Drive or Walk? Its raining and I feel weak...
I shall see how I feel after lunch with Liz whether I stamp some more of my carbon footprint on the well stamped route to the YMCA where gym takes place.
To snottily be continued over the course of the week.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment