I have spent most of the day asleep, since I didn’t sleep well last night. I have caught some bug or other that has, by now, turned my nose into a tap and my throat into molten metal.
Poor Mark. He has volunteered for the position of ‘stand with his hands on his hips and utter his disgust about my state.’ In particular he objected to the whole T-shirt and track pants and unkempt hair look I had most of the day.
“Christ, I’m living with Vickie Pollard,” he says at one point, after which he snorted and told me to go and shower. Yes but no but, I’m just left with the nagging question – why does men have to take the piss off a poor bloke that is suffering so?
While I had to house to myself I took the chance to create a cozy corner of the bed where I kept tea, tissues, short-bread and a pile of books. I also could start an outline for another story that I probably won’t finish.
That is where I’I’m writing this now, with Mark snoring here next to me. Yes, in the end he got sick of teasing me, and made me soup which he carried up here. So, I’ve had dinner in bed too.
Since I’ve slept so much, I’m not the least bit tired, and so I’m looking to stay up and read and do all those things on the internet that I didn’t do during the day. Oh, and tomorrow I don’t have any classes, so I can take it easy here at home; me and the dogs and George.