Have been feeling absolutely rotten today. Constantly sneezing, blowing my nose, intermittent coughing and exhibiting the energy of a stoned-out sloth. This cold has, as is often the case with me, brought things to a standstill. I should be working on the art for 'Plectronica' but couldn't face it or focus on what was needed. Had endured a terrible night with little sleep too, which didn't exactly help matters.
Didn't go out for my usual walk around town this afternoon either, so my blood-sugar levels were higher than usual when I tested them before dinner. Took an extra unit of insulin when I self-injected but I suspect that the 'ready meal' I had for dinner won't help matters. (Emi is out this evening at a farewell party for the boss of the charity she does voluntary work for, hence my 'make-do' meal.)
I had to deal with the man who came to fix the tiles in one of our bathrooms this afternoon. Again, Emi was out doing flower stuff so I dealt with him through sneezes and sniffles without her help. It's like trying to connect with stuff through a distant mist.
Watched 'White Christmas' on tv whilst the guy worked on the tiles. I've seen this film endless times but it still gives pleasure somehow. I love Bing Crosby's voice, of course, and Danny Kaye's clowning is funny and so well crafted, but Vera Ellen dances wonderfully too and seems to have such a tiny waist. I find her rather attractive, I must admit...
I'm scheduled to visit mum in Wakefield tomorrow but am worried about passing this awful cold virus on to her. We may have to give it a miss this weekend but I'll see how things are in the morning.
Now, it's back downstairs to sit in front of the tv and see the latest news from the UK and US, none of which is going to lift my spirits, I fear...It's getting more like the 18th Century than the 21st.