Wednesday, November 08, 2006

My friend, my toilet

Days where your toilet is your best friend, are not the best days. They can scarcely be considered days at all.

Last night everytime M stirred in bed, every twitch, sent a ripple across the mattress and a wave of nausea and pain would flood through me, and I'd hiss evilly "Keep still!" On pain of death.

Poor sod.

I feel better now, although all washed-out, heavy and bilious. At least the pain has gone.


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