Item – The Cold of Filth is rather a bad one. I took a second whole day off work. Well. H found me fully dressed, staggering around the kitchen, scarlet with fever and making wild but under-powered croaking noises, like a bull-frog buried in a duvet, and asked me what the hell I thought I was doing. ‘Going to work,’ I mouthed, hoarsely. H gave me a loving, but skeptical look and re-directed me firmly back to bed.
Item – I really don’t think I ovulated. I think my temperature went up because I’m ill. I think I need Provera. Stupid ovary.
Item – I’m not looking forward to Christmas either.
Item – My birthday doesn’t suck any more, despite being the anniversary of Pikaia’s loss. So, hopefully, after this first anniversary gloom, future years won’t be a morass of festive minefields. Hopefully. Because I am so very tired of grief.
Item – I need a drink.