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26 Oct

When Blessings Are Curses

A day curled up in bed sounds lovely – so lovely, in fact, that you’ve wished for fervently for months – until you’re forced into it by some nasty hobgoblin of a chest infection, some vile viral force that squeezes your lungs and throat and holds your aching body to the mattress and pillow and forbids you from enjoying for even one millisecond the fact that you are curled up in blankets in the middle of the afternoon and nobody expects you to move. So you end up cursing yourself for ever having wished anything of the sort and laying in a miserable heap, tormenting your sick self with the thought that you would be infinitely happier if you were upright and being shrieked at by children, because that kind of headache can be treated with Ativan and at least then you could enjoy some cookies.


(pulls blankets back over head.)