I went to bed at 8pm last night, desperate to feel the warmth of the electric blanket beneath me. I’d spent two of the previous three nights camping in a tent, so the idea of electricity and the magic it weaves in blanket form was far too appealing for me to wait until bed time.
I wasn’t planning on sleeping immediately, but my body had other ideas.
Ideas it regretted at midnight, when it woke me to let me know Sid wasn’t there. And to let me know that I couldn’t currently breathe through the avalanche of snot that had accumulated in my head in those four hours.
Now it’s 7:30am and that snot hasn’t cleared up in any kind of way.
My mouth-breathing is all rattle and shake, and my nose breathing… well, it’s fairly non-existent right now, but when it does happen, it makes my nose sting, as though I’ve just breathed underwater.
Anyone who real life knows me, knows that most things can turn me into a whining ball of NO. Papercuts have this effect on me.
This level of misery, however? You’d best send a doctor around for a home visit. I don’t have much time…