What a fabulous time to be poorly. The week between Christmas and New year. I would like to welcome the rest and relaxation but somehow when it feels as though there's a razor blade cutting through your throat and your head is banging so much that there's no sense of concentration.. yes. I am sick.
I would say I'm feeling sorry for myself today but I hate to sound pathetic and wallow in self pity. So, I am not feeling sorry for myself. I am quite frustrated because there's too much work to be done this holidays and before actual work picks up again next week, I have to be well and get this mountain of uni work out of the way. It is difficult to do that though, when I'm laid in bed with two hot water bottles, a lot of layers, and a mug of hot lemon and honey.
If there's one thing that I do admittedly wrongly like about being ill, it's that I have a 'good enough' excuse not to eat. It is only these days when it's okay to feel weak and lie in bed and not eat. Feeling sick but hungry.
When rationally thought about, there is nothing to enjoy about feeling hungry. But I'm not back there again.