Nightfall. Thanks the stars. I realised today was going badly when I jumped in the shower, felt my head go gritty, and realised I was using exfoliant instead of shampoo.
It was over breakfast when I realised the reason for my largely-sleepless night: throat like sandpaper and a head thick with cold. Not the cold that stops you breathing or produces Niagaras of mucus; just that annoying slight nausea that stops you working effectively. Decided to use the home office.
Then discovered two postal orders from an eBay transaction – POs that’d seemed a bit fishy but I’d been assured by one Post Office clerk and one Bank teller were genuine – bounced back to me, in accordance with prophecy, as forgeries. Ah well; at least I hadn’t sent the goods off. Confirmation of my personal philosophy: trust your instincts above all else.
Failing dismally to make headway on any of the 13 separate projects on the go, I’ve been reduced to a diet of teeth-cloying Lemsips and tea. Can’t wait to get back to bed.