Sunday, 15 February 2009

Friday the 13th.

Strangely, this is the day I showed a little commonsense.

Unlucky for some? I'll find out tomorrow when I go back into work tomorrow. But on Friday I hauled my sorry arse into work, despite feeling ill.

As I slumped onto the chair I realised how stupid and selfish I was being. Neet has just become an auntie, but the newest addition is early and currently in a neo-natal unit. So I said my goodbyes, resisted the urge to puke on my boss's shoes * and went home.

Typically, I started the flu max treatment from the wrong end of the pack, and took the night-time tablets at 10am. Great dreams in a disturbed sleep! Woke up properly at 4.30pm, with nightmare memories of horrific wedding proposals...

"Do you know why you are in this heart -shaped tv set?"
"Dunno, have we won a car?"
"No, you are here to propose to Glenda, your long-suffering girlfriend of 19 years. On national tv. And the Bridget Jones Supporters Club will kick the crap out of you if you don't."
"Could I have the car instead?"


The only good thing in this was the fact that, on Friday 13th, they normally like the horror stories. With a plane crash and Australia in flames to add to the usual death and despair, this would have been tasteless beyond belief.

* the puking on the shoes thing wasn't strictly a symptom, I just don't get on with my boss at the moment!

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