Wake up early: 6:44 A.M., according to phone (which means 6:42 A.M. in reality).
Diagnose self. Surrender to your temporary state of misery.
Decide to sleep it off. Stay in bed.
Have difficulty getting back to sleep. Wallow in horizontal discomfort for approximately four hours. Get up at the ridiculous hour of 11 A.M.
Promise self that you will get all your writing, blogging, vlogging and editing done later on today after an extended period of rest.
Breakfast. Crackers. No will to concoct anything else.
Cancel coffee plans with friend from college.
Scratch that. No energy to make tea.
Back to bed.
Attempt to cheer self up by watching clips from America’s Got Talent or Britain’s Got Talent or Anywhere’s Got Talent or X-Idol Get Me Out Of Here… but only the nice clips. Only the ones where extremely talented people get validated by a panel of judges in front of a live audience and all their dreams come true.
Lament the fact that you have no books to read at the moment.
More talent show clips.
Phone-call with Girlfriend on her lunch-break at work. Recount your thrilling day so far for her.
More talent show clips.
Surge of energy; seize it. Close YouTube app. Take a shower.
Spend a long time in the shower, clinging to the warmth and delighting in being vertical.
Back to bedroom. Lose will to be vertical.
Back to bed. More YouTube. Will clean room and get into clean clothes later.
More talent show clips.
Calculate the latest time you can start filming in order to actually produce a vlog today. Procrastinate.
Put on a onesie.
Attempt to make self feel better by caking face in carefully applied makeup so that you don’t look sick anymore.
More talent show clips, combined with some magician vids. Really anything lighthearted.
Blink and it’s dinner time.
Continue watching videos through dinner time, until your stomach aches from emptiness.
Pull yourself together to go make some toast and soup.
While you’re preparing that, attempt to engage with family, who are too enthralled by Wimbledon repeats. (Team Murray.) Sit in silence with them as they watch.
Eat (drink?) soup. Nibble toast.
Resign yourself to the fact that you will not be vlogging today. Nor will you be blogging. Nor will you be writing. You’re just lucky to have made it through the day without a nap.
Make tea. You deserve it, now that this is an official sick day. Commencing at 8 P.M.
Regret that you didn’t use the day to watch feature films that you’ve had on your list for weeks.
Take some selfies to see how sick you really look, even with all that makeup. Contemplate sending to Girlfriend and then consider, “Why?”
Don’t send them. Instead let them sit on your phone, taking up precious storage space.
Run out of talent show clips. Watch one clip from The Ellen Show about a pair of dads who adopted all their kids from the foster care system and cry so hard that you decide to change tactic. Comedy clips.
Determine that Tom Allen=funny.
Flitter away the time thinking about all the stuff you could be doing if you were not sick.
Vow never to take public transport again. Too many germs.
Wait for Girlfriend to arrive, since you’re too sick to cycle to her place.
While waiting, do a cull on all used tissues floating around bedroom. Replace with new fresh tissues, ready to accumulate your many disgusting germs.
Heat up bee teddy (intended for babies) in the microwave and put on sore tummy.
More or less, get straight into bed.
Remain in bed for twenty minutes before hearing the sounds of a cat fight (a literal brawl between cats), possibly in the neighbours’ garden.
Listen for five minutes.
Consider that maybe a cat is injured and needs your help.
Consult with sleepy Girlfriend. She is not keen.
Wait another five minutes, picturing bloody cat fight carnage.
Consult with Girlfriend. This time she encourages you to check on the situation.
Discard warm comforting bee teddy.
Pull on winter coat over pyjama shorts and a Primark Harry Potter shirt; grab keys and flashlight (phone app).
Turn off house alarm, thereby disturbing Grandmother (but don’t realise it yet).
Hear the sounds of stirring as you leave the house; commence feeling creeped out.
Wander outside in the dark, listening for sounds of distressed cats or dogs barking.
Picture every episode of Criminal Minds where you willed the characters to go back into the house before they get brutally murdered. Begin to regret this.
See a figure. SCREAM.
Calm down. Consult.
Check back of house. Alone. Grandmother stays inside.
Cats go quiet as soon as you begin your search. Jerks.
No sign of any distress, cat-related or otherwise.
Return home, tired, sick, cold and marginally more grumpy.
Bed. Take 2.
Bee teddy is no longer warm.
Fall asleep straight away.
Wake up early. Again. For the love of Gawd.
Still sick. Shocking.
Try to get back to sleep but give up sooner than you did yesterday. Get up by 9 A.M.
Repeat yesterday’s actions, but update to include eating a whole bag of dark chocolate chips now that you’ve run out of soup and toast ingredients (why is there always a bag of chocolate chips in the fridge? No one ever eats them but me in moments of sickness and emotional distress. And meanwhile, there’s no butter or other spreadables. What?!).
Accept that you’re too sick to vlog, but attempt to work from bed on other things, including this blog post.
Self-medicate and promise self lots of tea, with extra sugar. It’s like a hug for your insides.
Get irritated by your bedridden state, but remind self that it will all be worth it to speed up the recovery process.
Rest up. Treat yourself. You’ll be back to your healthy self in no time.