Sunday, May 9, 2010


I'm sick. I have some kind of flu. Usually when I get a flu I wait it out and let it get better on its own, which inevitably leads to a trip to the doctor two weeks in and an endless round of medications and return visits. This time I figured I'd be good and catch it at the start, so off I trot to the doctor expecting a pat on the back for being so health conscious. Instead she tells me I'm not sick enough. Not sick enough! So I trudge home and deal with it by downing panadol at every opportunity and emptying tissue boxes with rapid succession. And still I feel sick and miserable.
The miserableness comes less from being sick, and much more from just being cold. Winter is settling in slowly, and as it does the nights become less and less comfortable. I hate winter. Well, not completely. I love winter clothing - patterned stockings, soft scarves, beautiful leather gloves, and lovely jackets. But the cold wind, the dry air, the dark mornings and early sunsets? Yuck.
For me the worst part is going to bed. I hate having to get into a cold bed and lie, shivering, by myself while it warms up. I love having a warm body to snuggle into, to wake up with warm breath on my shoulder. For me, winter is the time when being single means being alone the most. It's the time when I pine for a someone to steal covers from, to keep me awake with their snoring, and to huddle with under the covers giggling about the silly things that happened in each other's days. Winter is the time when, more than anything, I want this:

Picture ripped from a bedding catalogue via Google Images. Was looking for a fantastic artwork but nobody seems to like spooning as much as me.

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