Sickboy

All night I was listless, tossing and turning and tossing some more, and now I know why: head cold!
I woke this morning to the sound of drums: Ka-THUD, Ka-THUD they went, and for a moment I wondered who was playing so loudly, until I realised it was the sound of my own heartbeat, amplified by 100psi in my sinuses. My sheets were damp from a night of sweating and my stomach slightly queasy from all the snot draining down the back of my throat.

This is not fun.

If I had a boyfriend he would have phoned in sick for me, and would now be making me chicken soup in our fabulous wee apartment overlooking the viaduct. But instead I'm here at work, slightly sweaty, trying not to move my head too quickly lest my poor compressed brain implodes. It builds character I guess...

;-)

Update: You guys are CRUEL. Here I am, sick, sweaty and horny and I'm being INUNDATED with rude thoughts via Email, Journal comments, and SMS. I'm going to end up wanking it right off!!! (It's so nice to feel loved :-))

Flashback!

Oh and I had a very pleasant surprise on Sunday morning: a message and phone call from none other than greasybiker. There's nothing that says "good morning" better than a handsome biker bear growling softly in your ear. My half of the conversation was a little stilted, as I'd just woken up and was a little taken aback by the pleasure of hearing Furr speak. He's got a fantastic voice, calm and measured but with a hint of gruffness. I, on the other hand, sounded like a frog, as I'd been given a gigantic cigar the night before and had greedily smoked it to the butt.

*TO* the butt, people. Not *with* my butt. How talented do you think I am!?! Well, yes, I may well be that talented, but I'm not going to blog about it!

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned....