Sunday, February 19, 2017

Struck down

Waah. I'm sick. Not seriously. Well, kind of seriously. I've got a cold. Right now I'm at the point where you think you'll never get better and breathe like Darth Vader for the rest of your life. See, serious.

I'm not very good at being sick. I tend to talk to myself, inanimate objects and TV characters that can't hear me. I refuse to believe I'm the only one who announces thoughts like these out loud (to no one in the room):

Hello oven. Why are you still on?
I should get a drink. Where's my glass?
Hello BBC dancy people, tell us what's on next.

Sssh you. I'm sick. Seriously.

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