Sick of it.
Do ever get those disturbed, flu-filled nights sleeps that make you question your sanity? The ones that submerge you into a realm stuck between that of a horror film and sweaty dark place? Phew, I thought I was the only one. And what a way to wake up at 2am by pouncing up onto my bed in a state of wide eyed panic thinking I was meant to be at work. After I stopped hyperventilating, the penny dropped and I realised the wanky-winter flu had crept up on me and taken its toll. Ill. I am ill. And everyone is going to know about it. In this state, I think it's fair to say that most people want a level of sympathy and obviously think that whatever they have is death knocking at the door. When is reality, it's nothing a few days of tea, toast and plenty of rest can't fix. I still haven't quite worked out what the worst thing about being stuck at home surrounded by a pile of snotty tissues is. Is it a) the vom-inducing daytime tele, b) the downer to having just four chan