Friday, October 18, 2002

SICK
Waah! It feels as if I've been swallowing sawdust and razorblades and had a beating with a big stick - I think I have finally succumbed to the office lurgie. Somehow, I don't think crossing my fingers and running away across the playground shouting "Vainies! Vainies!" is going to keep this dreaded thing away. What a shame that the old methods of protecting my health and safety don't seem to be very efficient in the era of antibiotics.

And I can't even lounge in bed tomorrow and get over this feckin' itchy eyes, sore throat, aching limbs, fuzzy head and running nose because I have to come in and work. Oh boo and indeed, hoo.

Some painters have just wandered in and marked my door for painting: great, perhaps the smell of the donated toxic paint so evil and noxious that it probably walked off the back of a lorry on its own initiative will clear my impending cold. Or maybe not. Bah. And sniffle.

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