I've spent the last few days coughing and spluttering like an emphasemic old-age home... The Common Cold. What a delight.
On Friday evening, I was going to a warehouse factory sale. Hot fashion clothes at ridiculously low prices. Saturday I was going to get the Christmas shopping done - I'd even made a list and everything.
Of course, directly related to Murphy's Law - my body collapsed on me (not least aided by the fact that my colleague was meant to give me a lift into work, he overslept and I wasted half an hour waiting in the rain). The post-nasal drip led to a stomach bug, on top of all the snotting, coughing and sneezing. So hot.
Anyway, so the factory warehouse sale with ridiculously cheap clothing didn't happen. Neither did the Xmas shopping. I'm also most annoyed that I managed to get sick over the weekend - who would want to get sick and stay off work? Not that I'm bitter or anything.
Fortunately, I have my collection of Terry Pratchett books to get me through the boredom. I'm slightly obsessive about this. Every time I go through an airport terminal, I compulsively buy a Terry Prachett book if I can find one (or more). Even if I'm already reading a good book - I still buy more TP. In a bookshop, Mills will turn his back on me for thirty seconds and return to find me grinning madly, clutching three new books in a packet. I just can't help it.
And these are most likely books that I've read before. And I'll read them again. And again. I can't get enough of Terry Pratchett's Discworld. I can't explain it so I'm going to stop trying.
I may have overdosed on them in the last day though - when I needed a break from the antics of Sir Samuel Vimes, Granny Weatherwax and Rincewind, I tried to stare down Deaky in a battle of non-productivity levels. I was outfoxed by the fish, every time.
The height of boredom - attempting to interact with a goldfish.