Plaaaaaaague!

Blood this morning, after only a short walk, was down to 4.7. If this keeps up, I may have to reduce my diabetic meds again, which would be a positive move.

I really don't want to get on the scales tomorrow. I don't expect progress per se, I'm hoping at least to have not gone up. There is, though, a distinct sense of toys hovering in the air above my pram right now, and the urge to throw them out is growing.

Of course, this could be the snot talking.
Yep, Man-Flu has well and trully stricken me. I'm bored of sniffing, and sneezing, and drinking water like it's going out of fashion to keep my throat from scratching, and generally just...waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Unclean, unclean, lurgified yeti in the rooooooom.

As it happens, almost everyone in my office has been similarly stricken - Sally-Anne, who's hopped up to the eyeballs on anti-biotics, Nick, the bookkeeper, who came back off his holidays today sneezing and spluttering and generally spreading the snot-love. Even Peter, the boss, is apparently laid up with lurgi - although he's not actually in the building, because, with a consummate style, he apparently has gotten sick while still ON his vacation. So we're all shuffling around like tormented souls on a ship of the damned, with only Colin, our administrator, currently immune. Naturally, we've all been coughing over him as much as possible today - we're into solidarity in a big way, y'know - one out, all out and all that jazz.

There's nothing I want to do more right now than go and curl up in bed, with lots of fluids and a teddy bear, and just shiver my timbers till morning. Then realise it's morning, pull the blankets over my Man-Flu'd head and sleep till tomorrow night.

Nnnnnoooot gonna happen. Ten miles of cycling before I go anywhere, and I simply don't have time to be sick this week - I have a magazine to finish, two freelance projects to do, a several-thousand-word prestige commission to complete, and set-up for my next magazine to do before I go to South Wales next Tuesday, to be there when my dad goes in for surgery. Oh, and ideally of course, some basement-clearing to do on the weekend, cos I never got there yesterday as I was planning. What's more, my friend Tig, who in her own way was responsible for getting d and I together, is reading chunks of my novel at a time, for feedback - I sent her the first 43 pages on Friday, and she's already demanding more. So I sent here the next 50 today...but the thing is, I'm rewriting great chunks after that, so if she gets done with this 50, I'll have nothing to send her unless I also, somewhere in the middle of all this, manage to do some novel-work. Still, this is good, I work muuuuuch better when things are mental and I have absolutely zero time to pull things out of my ass (in a non-Xenical way).

I could just do without the Man-Flu this week, that's all...
(Rings pathetic tiny leper-bell weakly, shuffles off to the bike of damnation).