I am only barely alive. Or so it seems. Two slices of french toast and a bowl of chicken noodle soup is all that has passed my lips in the last 48 hours. It appears I have contracted some sort of sickness bug. No great surprise considering my wife and son both had it last week.
I was starting to get overly confident about not catching it. I moonwalked in the face of the virus. And then it bit me full force on the arse, or to be precise in the belly.
“Take that you cocky bastard” it said whilst rendering me an incapable quivering mess. Last night had to be the most interesting nights sleep I’ve ever had. I don’t think I’ve ever been delirious but that was damned close. Loads of psychedelic dreams and I was sweating like a chip shop windae all night.
Needless to say, I was off sick from work today. There wasn’t a bit of me which wasn’t hurting. I think I might be on the mend though. The french toast and the chicken noodle soup have remained inside me which is a start. Onwards and upwards.
on Aug 24th, 2008 at 2:35 am
“Sweating like a chip shop windae” - LOVE IT! Hope you’re feeling better now though?