Coughs and Sneezes are Diseases

I am diseased. Don't worry, I don't think I have the sort of virus that you can get through your PC. Although, I'm not going to make any guarantees on that one. I tried to tell people at work this week that I had TB. They asked me how I knew, and I told them it was because of all the coughing. Of course it wasn't just a cough. I'm ill for goodness sake, can they not see that? I tried to tell Belle too, but she had me rumbled, and asked the important TB related questions. Had I written beautiful poetry? No. Had I written a novel? No again. Then it wasn't TB.

I started sneezing yesterday. People tried to tell me that this showed that what I had was a cough and a cold. A COUGH AND A COLD. Like it was nothing. It is something. It is something not very nice. You ask the woman who sat in front of me on the bus if she thinks it is nothing. She will say no. If she hears you over the noise of her hairdryer.

It was certainly something last night when I went to bed. I was tired and went straight to sleep. I then woke up, sat bolt upright in bed, coughed spasmodically, like a dog, then lay down and went straight back to sleep. At various points during the night, I woke up again, sat up in bed, and sneezed so violently that I nearly gave myself whiplash. (I don't know what the sitting up is for; it may be that my subconscious thinks I will drown if I keep lying down). I woke up again. There was a heatwave, and I was about to spontaneously combust. I took off my pyjamas, and settled down again to sleep. Only to wake up again, shivering, wondering why I had frostbite, and where the hell were my pyjamas? There was some squinting and rummaging, than I put on my pyjamas again. This was then repeated. Only once. I'm not a freak, you know.

I woke up this morning when my alarm went off. There was a strange feeling in the bed. I was almost frightened to look to see what might have happened. But at some point in the night, I think I had been visited by Paul Daniels. You see, the sheet was missing from my bed. The sheet from under me. UNDER ME. And it was on the floor. The strange feeling was because I was lying on the bare mattress. (YOU THOUGHT I'D DONE WHAT?!) I think that in the night, Paul Daniels had taken hold of one end of my sheet, and yanked it, without me moving at all. I never even heard him say "That's magic!"

The sneezing has been fairly constant all day. I came out of the railway station this morning, sneezing so profusely that I was momentarily blinded, and hurtled into a door.

It is no fun for me, you know.