Well, that was a lovely weekend, until the bout of some quasi-mononucleotic virus that laid me low from yesterday evening until a few hours ago. I’ve had the muffleheadedness of a cold, but with almost no outward symptoms: my sinuses were causing me problems, but that could be as much evidence of Saturday night’s clubbing as anything else. Like most people who wash their hair, and own or maintain a clutch of mucuous membranes, I’m counting down the days to the smoking ban.
My thoughts this past day and a half (such as I was able to push through the cotton-wool wrapped round my brain) have turned to the usual employee’s laments. I wished that a holiday that becomes a de facto sick-day might be retroactively converted into such, so that I might have the relaxing break another time for free. But this particular lurgie has been haunting me for a week or two, and I’ve only kept it at bay with a wall of work-related stress; it was inevitable that I’d come down with it as soon as I relaxed.
On that miserable note, I hope you all enjoyed your own Easter weekends, you hale and hearty bastards. At least we got to see rabbits yesterday, and I stroked a horse.