So. Absolutely nothing of any interest has happened to me in the last few days. Mainly because I have been spending my time alternating between:
1) Coughing until the top of my head feels like it is coming off and my lungs will shortly be appearing out of my nose.
2) Trying not to cough, then remembering that I am supposed to in order to expel the goo demons inhabiting my lungs.
3) Taking antibiotics. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. They've prescribed me the ones they give to people who have been exposed to Anthrax. Which makes me feel a bit special and Secret Agent-y.
4) Drinking water. It says I have to on my Anthrax-b-Gone pill packet.
5) Crying like a big girl. This mostly happens at night when I am exhausted and unable to sleep because of activities (1) and (2). I am currently exiled to the spare room, so that Mr WithaY can get some sleep and doesn't try to kill me in the night after I keep him awake with activities (1), (2) and (5). On the plus side, I get to wake up and do the "Where am I?" thing every day, looking adorably like Clara Bow.*.
6) Listening to my chest rattle. This is both gross and alarming but unavoidable when I lay down to begin my nightly cough/hack/weep/cough routine.
7) Phoning my new boss and trying to croak down the phone at him until he understands that his shiny new team member is both unreliable and a sickly old bat. He must be delighted.
8) Trying to read the huge scary heap of documents I brought home last week and realising I am so far out of my depth with my new job that I don't even know where to start.
9) Trying to get another appointment with the doctor** to see if I am improving or just sinking into a Romantic Poet stylee decline.
Still. Mustn't grumble.
*In my head
**2.30 today. Hurrah. They just called me back.