I started my day at 3am, waking up to what might be a viral sore throat, might be chemical burns from inhaling cleaning products in an unventilated bathroom. Then I snoozed. Then I woke up again and felt intensely happy about being my new home, small but sweet and very quiet, and I dressed in pretty clothes and took myself out for a delicious breakfast. I continued to feel violently happy until it was time to shed my nice clothes, go back to St Kilda, and continue cleaning my old flat, albeit with the support of darling, dearest Kerry, without whom I don’t think I would have survived the move. Feverish and weak and pathetic, I did a crap job of it, and felt progressively more awful as I continued to inhale Mr Muscle. It was all in vain, as unsurprisingly it wasn’t good enough apparently and I’m still going to have to pay for cleaning out of my bond. Plus I forgot my waterbottle there. But I am snug in my new house, it’s raining soothingly just outside my window, and I’ve been watching lots of Parks and Recreation. In exactly 4 weeks (to the minute!) James will be home. And eventually my throat will have to return to normal.
Please let me be better in time for Monday. I can’t miss more work, and working when I feel this crap? Don’t want to even think about it.