For the second time this year so far, I have given a good home to the raging snots. They shall be staying an undisclosed amount of time, but I do hope they get bored before long and move on to pastures new.
I should have known something was amiss after the night I had, to be fair, but I was a tad slow on the uptake.
Last night, the ringing in my ears was nasty. I even had to turn the TV all the way up to 38 from it's usual comfortable 24.
When I eventually fell asleep, I dreamed of the impending zombie apocalypse, in an unknown town, on a bright and gloriously sunny day. The zombies were approaching our glass-fronted aircraft hanger across the massive lush green playing fields, presumably from the housing estates beyond. I watched from a metal platform that overlooked the entire hanger full of peepsicles, as I was important. Sadly, before I could find out exactly WHY I was important, something in the bungalow snapped me out of it. Probably the storage heaters clunking on, but no idea really.
I roused, and realised the sun was a way off coming above the horizon, and just lay there.
"Great!" I thought. "I've only spent the night with my mouth open..."
Indeed, my throat was feeling a touch uncomfortable, and I presumed wrongly that a mug of tea and a few hours would soothe it.
The sun rose, and off I went to work.
It was only after I returned home that the real kicker came, and I went from husky to streaming boogers in under an hour. A new record!
My mum stopped by briefly, and confirmed that the conversation we'd had about my being run down was also a figment of my unconscious mind, and probably occurred before the zombies appeared.
I shall be spending my day off tomorrow confined to the house, most likely sporting tissue nose plugs. As it stands right now, this seems to be the most effective way to stop the highly unpredictable rain from my nostrils dripping down my face, body and anything else that happens to get in the way.
And with that, I'm off as I have a date. In my bed. With paracetamol.
