Back in town a grand total of 4 days and I'm sick as a dog.
My sister says not to blame my co-workers, but it's them, it's their fault, those fuckers and their little kids with illnesses, and they come to work or worse bring the little infected brats and voila.
No one I encountered in London was sick.
So I came home today at noon intending to sleep, except the road work is shaking the house and making such a racket that I slept but fitfully. A work conference call, mandatory, dragged forever, I just put my cell on speakerphone. Bugger off I'm sick.
So I sat here watching British films all afternoon, crying my eyes out, wishing I was back there, wishing I could see the Brit again, he's working flat out tonight, have heard via text here and there....but, I regret not having seen him more, and well, as a result of last week I regret a huge part of my life.
Which I know I shouldn't do but, it's there, in my brain.
Why didn't I, why don't I, oh the what ifs.
On that note, my snotty nose and I need to get the dogs outdoors. Don't think we can walk on the road yet, at least not little doggie feet.....they're still roaring back and forth on the big roller doohickeys, which have hot rollers if I'm correct (and therefore curly hair ------ oh the sick chick humor...)
Ugh. "Three Weddings & a Funeral" is almost done. I need to roll over and get walking. Icky.