Possibly one of the most frustrating days I’ve had at the day job, not helped along in the slightest by the fact I was feeling like death warmed up, and had the patience of a bull dog that’s been tied up for 2 weeks in a butcher’s back shop. It was that kind of day.
As promised, I left early and when I got home went straight to bed. That was about 5pm. I woke up briefly at around 10:30pm, convinced it was the next day and that I should be getting ready for work. I managed a pint of vitamin juice and went back to bed and have slept solid until 8:30am this morning. I still feel awful.
I’m exhausted, my head and eyes ache and I just want to sleep. So I’ve notified the day job that I won’t be in today and I need to take some time out. There’s no way I’m fit enough to get attain the level of performance I need to be at for my work, and yesterday that was probably abundantly clear to everyone.
There’s also the small matter of food because until the cup of tea and toast I have in front of me, the last thing I ate proper was yesterday at around noon. A small cup of soup and a salad in the space of 24 hours probably isn’t going to help matters.
As I type, the older of my two sisters is being wheeled into an operating theatre to have a caesarian section. That’s another reason for wanting to get myself better: I want to see my new niece/nephew at some point over the weekend.
I have one thing to do and that is post my fourth workshop assignment, which somehow I’ve managed to keep rolling. There is no way in a cold Scottish hell that I can allow the ball to be dropped on that one.
One final thing before I go back to bed: happy birthday Chas Smash. 52 today!
Right, back to bed.
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