Chips

I have contracted a nasty bug. Viruses adventure around your body, poking at different parts of it by the hour. On Monday it made my teeth hurt, muddled my brain, collapsed time into tiny segments and then expanded it into years, and attacked my digestive system. Yesterday, it nagged at the broken elbow from a couple of years ago, pinched my face, fizzed in my head and made my legs ache. Today, it's grabbed me by the throat in barbed-wire pincers, stolen my voice and made my mind drift into peculiar swirls. Get lost!
It was impossible to see it coming, unless the boring dream in which I tidied up the desktop of my computer by putting files into folders was a precursor. It was so boring that I woke up to get away from it, and promptly fell back to sleep and dreamed exactly the same thing again.
I've had to cancel absolutely everything this week, and I'm trying not to think about how on earth everything is going to get done when I'm better.
Only sitting-down things are manageable (that's how come I got the poster done), and not complicated things on the computer like sorting out my research for work, or even writing complicated emails that require more that 'Dear...., best wishes, Helen'.
Thank you to my pals and family for coming round and watching crap telly, shopping, and making food.
I have two extremely boring detective novels to read and despite being fed good food and lemon, ginger and honey, instinct told me that chips were the thing. I am feeling on the mend already.