PL3A53 R3B00+

It's been quite a while since I was ill quite this often (twice in four weeks is novel for me)...and I am not enjoying it. Lets be honest none of us really like being ill. You don't have the energy to do anything and if you did you feel guilty that you aren't doing what you should be.

With no real way of combatting my current cold, bar herbal teas (in large quantity) and the odd steaming of the brain, I've slowly made my way through most of the tissues in the house. The only thing that implies that I'm fighting back is my random lapses into sleep where my body pulls at my consciousness so hard that I can fall asleep in the middle of plot laden conversation, much to the amused annoyance of choccoweeble who hadn't noticed, being behind her laptop screen at the time.

So it's Saturday...a slightly less guilt ridden day to be ill as I have no plans. My brother is on his way over with a shirt and jumper he's accidentally dyed pink, in the hope that I can accomplish some form of rescue. The living room looks like Larp exploded all over it and I'm wondering if I can muster the energy to do what I should have done on Monday to clean it away.

I'm bored as heck...Really. I've not the mental dexterity amongst all the cotton wool to do anything constructive and I'm beginning to feel isolated. Strange how being ill makes the time I would have been on my own anyway rather more boring than otherwise.

If you're online and fancy a chat it would certainly improve the outlook of my day. You needn't worry about me sounding pitiful as conversation always cheers me up, unless you phone me...my voice has gone funny and pitiful is a side effect. This is the main reason I thought work was a bit of a loss. Even if I could focus enough to do it, answering the phone would have been a disaster.