YO HO HO, and a Happy New….
[deep sigh]
No. I can’t be arsed either. Sorry.
I’ve had enough of being wished, and wishing, all sorts of delightful things. Let’s rip down those dinky little winking lights; the pseudo-magical paraphernalia of seasonal beneficence. Yes, goddamit, I love you all, but I’m just… I’m just bored to death having to tell you, and having to listen to you telling me.
I’m also horribly bored with my illness. It was sorta interesting for a while. All that wacky phlegm, and those awesome Baskerville-like coughs. But these questionable entertainments have been amusing me for about ten days now, and I’m done. I’ve read the book, watched the show, stamped my way through a few encores… and I’ve had enough.
Please. Let me go home, curl up in my own routine and sleep it all off. Tomorrow I can rise, run, feel happy and healthy and optimistic again, and actually make some reliable plans.
Plans? Let’s talk about plans. My plan is-was-is-was to run a marathon on the last weekend of April. Two weeks of training have now been missed, so it seems almost sensible to think about moving this flagellatory weekend back a bit.
I should be saying all sortsa significant, profound things at the beginning of the year, but all I’m really thinking about is the viscous goo in my lungs that makes me sound like a kazoo each time I breathe.
But as well-meaning types always say of teams at the wrong end of the league: When you’re at the bottom, the only way is up.
Hmmm. Have they never heard of relegation…?
