This is how my week is shaping up so far.
Yeah, I got Man Flu, a.k.a. “a really heavy cold, but I will dramatise it to the extent that it will totally seem like I’ve had flu”. And I will liveblog it, too. Because I do that.
(Um, I don’t have a chesty cough, by the way. This was just the only cold remedy I had in the house. This is the most fascinating post I’ve written in a while, huh?)
As always when I get ill, I I find myself face-to-face with one of the very few downsides of self-employment. You see, my bed is RIGHT THERE. I can actually see it from my desk. I bet it would be really comfy and cosy in there right now. I could curl up with a good book, and maybe some really unhealthy snack food (because, as we all know, food you eat while ill totally doesn’t count. Feed a cold, folks!) and a giant mug of coffee. It would be almost like a holiday, but with added Lemsip and sneezing. It would be ace, actually.
But it is not to be. Because if I were to give in to this impulse, and retire to bed to nurse my Man Flu, my laptop would taunt me from just across the hall. “Hey, Amber!” it would say. “While you’re languishing in bed, like a Jane Austen heroine with a touch of the vapours, no one is doing your work! Your readers are all unsubscribing in droves. They will NEVER come back, and you will go out of business, and have to go and work down the pit or something. Have a nice day!” And even although my laptop is actually talking rubbish here, I believe it, and so I bravely soldier on, even although I think my nose just fell off and rolled under my desk.
Instead of taking the day off and going back to bed, then, I’m just going to whine a lot instead. I apologise in advance to those of you who follow me on Twitter…