So after three whole days strewn across my bed surrounded by snotty tissues, reeking of Vix, mouth wide open (for respiratory reasons), the constant need to switch the fan on or off so as to comply with with my frequently adjusting fever, and ogling over Ian Somerhalder in Vampire Diaries Season 1, I was (quite suprisingly) rather keen to get back to the office this morning.
Don't let the appeal of 'home' and 'bed' fool you during the week. It's profoundly boring being ill, in an empty house and trying to find something remotely watchable from a monumental conglomeration of shit on TV. And being confined to the house is even more of a problem if you have no food at home, which is why it's a good idea to have a boyfriend who has his own place. A guy's fridge never runs on empty.
Tonight I am going to Blakes – that new swanky hotspot on Buitengraght with a real breathtaker of a view and a rather sophisticated upper-class feel to it! And I've heard the food is nothing short of spectacular. I wish I wasn't feeling as if someone had stuffed sponges up my nose and encased my head in a small bubble, but I've been looking forward to tonight's triple date for too long to care. One glass of bubbly couldn't hurt? My medication only said that alcohol MIGHT aggravate/increase the side effects of drowsiness and concentration impairment. What's life without a little risk! And doesn't Champagne do that anyway?!
No comments:
Post a Comment