Right. Let’s. Stop. This. Right. Now.
Said in a John Cleese bark.
I am absolutely absatively posolutely fed up with illness, ill people and myself in particular.
It’s all a big, steaming lump of pooh.
I woke at 4.00 a.m. yesterday with a pounding headache, which turned into a crunching, head mangling, vomit inducing migraine which made me throw up and throw up and weep on my knees until about half past nine last night.
I was too ill to take my son to school. I was too ill to go to the theatre. I was too ill to do anything except wish myself dead.
It was utterly, utterly, despicably miserable.
Today I have felt nauseous all day, and slightly hung over and rather fragile. Although I have managed to get up and dressed, and ferry Oscar to school and remember to sort things for Christmas parties etc.
Tallulah has come home and is losing her voice, and her cold is back and her sinuses hurt and dear lord God, have we not suffered enough?
Thankfully she only has a half day tomorrow. But taken all in all, the last week has been ploptious.
On top of that I have been aggravated half to death by stuff that is stupid and annoying and annoyingly stupid and makes me want to rend flesh with my teeth.
Not my own flesh.