Flat out

It's interesting to have a really high fever, because it feels like a window into a time when I'm lobotomised. I've been sluggish, listless, incapable of attempting large scale endeavour. I haven't even been able to play games on the Xbox.

I'd blame some of this on the drugs rather than the fever, but I've only been taking paracetamol and ibuprofen. It's not like when I did too many Benyllin 4Flu and the world began to spin around me like a funhouse mirror curled up into a tube. If I wanted to get properly bent out of shape, I think there's some valium under the bed and maybe some expired codeine. Or all the duty-free booze, but again, I don't think that a pint of gin is appropriate medication. I suppose as a malaria prophylaxis, gin and tonic may be quite a good thing, but that's before you've got ill, not once you're bedridden and baffled.

It would be nice to be ill but not be ill. Having been given a note from the doctor to tell me I should convalesce for three days, I should be fairly relaxed, but since my brain doesn't work, it's not as if I can enjoy lying in bed very much; it just feels like a cruel endurance test that I'm not getting very good marks at.

On the positive side, my fever has almost gone now - down to a hardly-febrile-at-all 37.4, so perhaps by tomorrow I'll be well again. Or in the night locusts will erupt from my flesh. Wait and see...