Not looking for sympathy but I am unwell. So an unwell winge is called for.
It’s nothing serious, just (probably) a 24 hour thing but every joint in my body aches, my head feels as though my brain has been removed and replaced with damp cotton wool and my internal thermostat is out to lunch as my body runs from ultra cold to holy hell it’s as hot as fuck in here.
And tired, desperately tired.
Tried to read but even Charlie Brooker’s readable prose failed to penetrate the damp cotton wool; the words swam around and made no sense.
I had a text from work asking me to do something but really I just didn’t understand what the question was or what they wanted.
Music in a darkened bedroom helps, ‘InnÃ MÃ©r Syngur Vitleysingur’ from MeÃ° SuÃ° Ã Eyrum ViÃ° Spilum Endalaust is playing *very quietly* in the background. *Very quietly* is good.
But the trouble is I’m an active person and I’m fast reaching the point where I can’t stay here in this bed any longer.
I would scream if my head wouldn’t fall off in the process.
Won’t be able to ride today, that’s a given. And a big disappointment.
Need to learn a dressage test for Friday but that’s not going to happen today either.
And I have much work to do that isn’t going to happen.