Burnt Toast

There are times when one feels good. There are times when one is enjoying the prime of one's life, contemplating how healthy and young one is. Yes, spending a lot of time indoors playing World of Warcraft might be a little sad...but one can feel good doing it nonetheless, right? Anyway, I refuse to believe that frolicking too frequently on the digital frontier and thereby avoiding fresh air, human interaction and the occasional visit to the gym can be the cause of my terrible flu. In fact...my self-imposed solitary confinement should aid me in the constant struggle against 'other-people's-germs'. But I am experiencing one of those days when all illusions of immortality are dashed to pieces on that old, familiar friend 'harsh reality'.

I am ill....I am so ill it feels like my head is about to implode. I have the strangest sensation that all I can smell is burnt toast. This could have something to do with the fact that I did not want to leave the flat today and so when the hunger pangs set in...I tried to toast bagels under the grill and then forgot about them...until the smoke alarm went off. I wish I could say it was the first time I set the smoke alarm off...but that would be a lie...a terrible lie. I have, to date, set off the smoke alarm about 10 times. With my headache and fever, the alarm sounded like it was searing my very flesh...and all attempts to turn it off seemed to fail...until I nearly ripped the thing out the wall with frustration. Needless to say...the beast is now silent.

The thing I hate most about being sick is how slow my reflexes seem. I was lying on the couch reading a rather saucy book, aimed at adolescant girls, called "Forever Amber" by Kathleen Winsor. One of my creative writing students bought it for me and I'm so glad she did...because I'm devouring every chapter and in my hunger to read on I blocked out the following sounds: the phone ringing, my disgruntled neighbour playing *George Michael really loudly and finally the smoke alarm - which resulted in my burnt bagels.

Anyway, when the phone rang again...it was like I was in slow motion...I made to run to the phone...but kind of just stumbled, narrowly missing the coffee table. It was like I was moving through really thick mud...and in the end, I just gave up and flopped back on the couch...bugger the phone.

Right now I plan to settle down with some herbal tea and some more of this nifty cold & flu medicine I found, which makes me feel all serene and floaty, which can't be good for me. I plan to snuggle down into my duvet...with my tissues...close my eyes and hope I'm better in the morning.

*I must make a note about George Michael here. I cannot stand him. I have spent so many torturous nights being forced to listen to his sentimental, sacchrine songs...my least favourite of all being 'Like Jesus to a Child' which I find deeply creepy...especially the chorus. My neighbour, let's call him....mmm....Jack finds the need to play George Michael at all hours of the early morning and late evening really loudly. This is one of the few times I will not be exaggerating but it is the only thing Jack listens to. He has no other album...no other artist...but Jack deserves a whole post of his own I think.