I get colds, I hate colds, I take cold medicine because after a couple of years where I went off it and experimented with drinking juice, garlic tablets and other flights of fancy I worked out that the only way to prevent a full-blown flu, for me, is to medicate my snot glands dry and keep the crap out of my lungs.
As a side effect, I seem to get a little bout of tourette's syndrome.
Take this morning. Someone at work is talking to me about someone else I don't have a very high opinion of, and asks me if I know her. To which I reply in a deadpan voice with words that included 'hate', among others. Now I'm not particularly fond of this individual, but she's simply too mediocre to inspire anything approaching hatred, and the language was totally (notwithstanding that we're in a pretty robust team here) inappropriate.
In my last role I fell out with someone for ages when in response to a rather rude comment they made about their seniority as a lawyer, I replied 'you must be a fucking genius then!' Such language was common in that Court, and patronising people about their level of experience (and that coming from a pretty average lawyer) is very rude, but the out-of-character way I delivered it, at a crowded Court Registry counter, raised a few eyebrows.
There's no easy solution, it hasn't gotten to career-stopping proportions yet, I just have to try and keep an eye on it.
Go home, rest they say but if you are like me and you get several weeks' worth of colds each year you'll know that sitting at home the whole time just isn't an option. And besides some fucking arsehole (see, I can't help it) will inevitably be doing renovations next door with a radio turned to 11 on Hot 200 Bogan Radio singing along with the Choirboys, that's Murphy's Law.
The craphouse thing is that we go on holidays tomorrow, so I kick the holiday off on a sickly note.
The nice thing is that we go on holidays tomorrow, so I can beat this shitty lurgy lying next to a pool in 26 degree Palm Beach heat reading one of the gazillion books I've started.
Do you, dear reader, start lots of books simultaneously? I try not to, but it just happens.
Books I've started and may or may not progress (sorry about the links but I can't fucking be arsed this morning, and can only justify posting for a few minutes):
Day of the Jackal ... Frederick Forsyth
The Tyrannicide Brief ... Geoffrey Robertson QC
The Latham Diaries ... by that other fucking Tourettes headcase
Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman ... Haruki Murakami
Phoenix: Policing the Shadows ... Jack Holland
In the Shadow of Swords ... Sally Neighbour
Yes I know three are about terrorism, I'm a political nerd, ok?
Books I'm eyeing off and may read instead:
Everything is Illuminated ... Jonathan Safran Foer
Something from the Booker list ... Someone Famous and Verbose
Something incredibly Fast and Trashy... Dan Grisham or some other idiot.
Or I'll re-read The Old Man and The Sea for the 4th time, some writing never loses its potency.
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