Thursday, March 31

sick. deathly sick.

Have report to finish. Spent most of yesterday in a delirious haze. Feeling thoroughly sorry for myself. Must finish. report. Must. crawl. out of bed. Had to do a presentation today at The King's Manor anyway.

Must crawl into a nice warm hole and die. I feel (to quote one of my Ma's favourite idioms) like death warmed up. And served with a nice garnish of headaches and chills.

Chundering like a mofo every 20 minutes (or feeling like it) ain't helping either.
Oh, is that steak and mushroom pie ? blech
Goddamn flu.


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