deathpixie | Lost: One immune system, answers to the name of Rossi

So, once again I've spent the weekend curled up on the couch under a rug, drinking vast quantities of fluids and feeling like death warmed up.

This is getting boring.

Basic cold, this time. Nose like a tap, dry hacking cough, low-grade temperature. And the worst thing is I can't actually afford to buy the echinacea lozenges I know would knock this thing on the head in the next day or two, and I'm out of sick leave without medical certificate, so here I am at work, trying to get my head around such complicated tasks as reading and hoping I don't fluff anything too badly.

But yeah, I'm really getting sick (excuse the pun, I've been reading Callaghan's again) of getting sick every week or two. I've got a day off on Wednesday (my April RDO), and I'm taking myself to the doctor then to find out just why I'm getting sick all the time, and why I'm so bloody tired lately. I don't get sick, not this often, and it's getting beyond a joke.

So, nothing exciting to tell about my weekend. I did laundry. I made some bread, as I was out. I've read the first three Callahan's books and am on the fourth (nice feel-good stuff that doesn't tax the brain too much and reaffirms my faith in humanity, which has taken a beating this week). Missed out on the marches on Friday and Sunday, which sucks. Having major money crises again, which could be contributing to the general state of malaise. Coping, mostly.

And I'm going to go see Moby in concert tomorrow, because Phil was a dear and bought tickets, for which I'll pay him back next pay day (in a week and a half). And my dad's coming down on Wednesday - I'll be meeting him at the station.