Another kind of bug

Whatever bug it was, it was really nasty.

It started with the the usual pain in the throat, then felt it travel up to the nasal passage, and eventually settled itself at the forehead, which made every thought feels like clawing through a thick smultz of a loud rock band jamming session.

I finally gave up this morning, and decided to be kinder to myself rather than trying to go through and put up the proposition plan for a meeting next week. Made a dash home, visit the GP, grabbed a quick lunch, downed the meds, and then plonked myself onto the bed. And realise that the body which is so attuned to being most productive in the PM is now wide-awake, despite the head throbbing. Oh well, it's still good to be at home, blasting Adele's 21, and letting some afternoon breeze ease some of the urgh-ness.



Which leads to me to another kind of bug.

"How are things with u?" the sms says.

Off hand, I had many retorts. but I decided that none of them would have conveyed what I wanted to say anyway. 6 years on (or was it more?), and with that kind of callousness at that time, and with whatever he already has now, why does he even bother.