I am currently lying in bed, with a cup of tea that is almost too large to be legal, considering whether it is possible to leave my pillowy pit of comfort.
It’s almost five in the evening and I haven’t left my bed since I woke (apart from to get tea :-P ). I’ve got a banging headache and I feel like crap, but I need to get up and out to go to my Best mates’ house for the evening.
I am wondering, though, why does illness always come and slap me on the arse, just when life gets interesting eh? I’m happily plodding along, waving at life’s ups and downs, then BAM! Slap in the face and here I am! In bed, feeling beautifully pathetic.
My Brain feels as such…