I felt like shit this time yesterday - so bad in fact that I didn't think I'd make it to work today. I take absenteeism seriously; it's a legacy of a Catholic upbringin. For me even to consider having a sickie requires my feeling truly terrible. I was exhausted when I reached home last night, so the game was definitely afoot.
The missus was late-ish home, but we decided to pop out for a pre-show cocktail nonetheless. After returning home, I threw caution to the wind and spent the rest of the evening eating fine foods and drinking fine wines to my heart's content. I didn't go to bed until nearly midnight, convinced I'd be phoning in sick this morning. I woke up after 7 hour's undulating and watery sleep (I was woken by a bluebottle. In February??) feeling much much better, however. Hmm...chilli, wine and good telly appear to have steadied the ship. That's good news...I think
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