I do get up at 7:00 and sit, but I feel terrible. I also semi-successfully Pick Stuff Up. And manage to get into Walker’s for 9:30.
I am ill, but the degree of illness only dawns on me throughout the day. Many people have the same Lurgi, so there’s no sympathy, merely contempt for trying to jump on the Lurgi bandwagon, a mere wannabe in the illness stakes.
A question that recurs – if everyone has the same hat, it’s considered to be a popular hat. Why, therefore, if everybody has the same cold is it not called a popular cold. Number one in this week’s chart rundown of the hot new illnesses across the nation.
And at 40 with a bullet: anthrax.
I linger at work until 7:30, pausing on my way out only to disturb a fellow worker who very much needed to be finished tonight, thank you very much, and to chat to Amelia.
Then home to write today’s and yesterday’s diary entries in a sort of lurgi-induced hallucinogenic haze. This is why the last couple of days haven’t seemed to make very much sense. Although, come to think of it they didn’t make that much sense when I was living them.
I turned up the DVD of The Fellowship of the Ring yesterday when I was looking for something completely different, so I watch it again before I give it back.
Drip activity is getting more frenetic – I set up a second plastic bag to direct water into a pan in the bedroom, and then have to get to sleep listening to the tap tap tap of water on polyethylene (or whatever it is that Tesco’s bags are made from). Somehow I don’t find the rhythm calming in any way.
Of course I tell myself that I’m researching the use of modern plastic in small interior irrigation projects. Of course.
(And hello Sue, as well).