I woke up with a deep voice and a sore throat, this is not the way that I like to start a day. I worked my way through my morning routine on auto-pilot. I didn’t feel like going to work today and if it wasn’t for a physio appointment I the middle of the day I probably would have opted for a duvet day instead.


It was all good news today, apparently, the exercises are working and according to the physio I should start running. In contrast to the doctor he has recommended a half hour run with intervals of two minutes running and on minute walking. This feels a whole lot better than the one mile easy that the doctor recommended. I felt good about that. If only I didn’t have this illness all would be good.


I’ve arranged to work at home tomorrow. This will save the group from me infecting them but more importantly, it will allow me to have a lie in an attend to a few things that I don’t want to attend to in the office. Things like buying a new carpet and paying bills. I may even get round to doing the ironing.


I didn’t feel that hungry when I got in this evening so I settled on having cheese and rice cakes rather than the soup that I had planned. It was the only other alternative to the soup. I felt that the soup was far too thick for my fragile state of mind


Tonight, was the night to tackle the ironing pile, it took over an hour to get everything done and put away. At least it was done and because I’m feeling ill I felt that I had not wasted my time as it was unlikely that I could have done anything else this evening.


I’m not sure if drinking a large glass of whisky before bed is counted as self-medication but it did help me sleep. The thing I needed was sleep.


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