Nov. 18th, 2004 08:07 pm
littlesaru: (Reaper)
[personal profile] littlesaru
Colds are evil.

No. They are more than evil. They are diabolical.

They sit in your throat, making you aware that They Are Coming. And then they wait. And wait. And wait. Until you think you've done the dirty on them with all the orange juice, garlic, lemon and honey, nuclear radiation and what-not you've been throwing down your throat. You think you're free and clear, happily skipping off to a weekend of fun at USJ and the attached aquarium. You enjoy yourself, eating too much food, drinking too much drink, taking very, very stupid photos of yourself and your friend. And then... the Monday morning post-fun, it hits you.

Your throat feels like sandpaper, your voice has packed up and left for the Bahamas until conditions improve, your head feels stuffed full of dead, slimy, rotting slugs, and your eyes could do well without all that sunlight, thank you very much.

Naturally, being a good little AET, even under those conditions, my body under a state of siege, the battlements breached and all that, I kept going. The stiff upper lip was the last defence, rigid determination its happy compatriot. From Monday through to Wednesday night they waged a war of attrition, giving up the body's supplies in hopes of bringing the intruder to a standstill. Alas, on Thursday afternoon, at 12 noon, they failed, falling heroically to their deaths. A sick leave form was hastily written, supervisors were informed, and sick leave was taken. Sleep was blissful and serene, marred only by the waking to find the headache gone but the throat worsened. The intruder is obviously raping and pillaging my insides.

This does not make me happy.

Friday might require another day off – though I will try to leave it until after all my lessons are finished for the day... no, I won't. That would be pointless. It would be all of 35 minutes of leave, which would be rounded up to a full hour. Bugger that. Morning lessons only and at lunch time I'm coming home, where I can sleep on my nice, comfortable futon, in my nice quiet house, without all the running around and shouting of other teachers at moronic students.

And I Won't Feel Guilty About It

No matter how much "She" tries to make me.

On a lighter note – d'ya like my new icon? I like my new icon. It's better than the old one. Probably because I now have Photoshop. Were it not for the cold I would be positively, evilly gleeful. As it is, I'm only positively gleeful. Evil requires too much energy.

August 2007


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