Stop picking on me

Well that was the weekend, definitely one of THOSE weekends where you wonder, what did I do wrong?

It started on Friday evening when I lied to myself. I pushed the inevitable away, told myself it wasn’t happening and grasped denial by the lapels and screamed “help me, please, not tonight!”.

But my screaming was in vain, the migraine was settling in for the night and I knew, eventually, that there was nothing I could do to stop it. There never is.

And so it came to pass that, bar a short period of awakeness for more pills and some water, I slept for almost 12 hours. Not that impressive but considering there were two (giggling) ladies in my flat getting ready for a night out, who then went out and came back in at 3am, and I still managed to sleep through all of it!

Saturday was a little better. Out to lunch with the aforementioned ladies which was good, but after dropping them off I headed home feeling queasy and so that was my Saturday evening and most of my Sunday. Stuck on the sofa, a pathetic lump.

I stirred briefly that evening and, in an attempt to eat healthily, I decided to have some avocado and managed to cut my thumb. Not too badly but enough to be annoying.

And then on Sunday, just to add to the fun, I managed to split open my little toe by badly stubbing it on my exercise bike; given that I had planned to take my actual bike out for a cycle but decided not to as I wasn’t feeling great, the irony was not lost on me.

So, whilst nothing particularly bad happened, it did seem that the world was ganging up on me.

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