So having been at work all week I woke up on Friday REALLY late for something important. Naturally I reacted as any half awake drama queen might and flew around the bedroom grabbing clothes, swearing and generally enjoying the melee.
Five minutes later I fly out the of the front door and start on the three blocks to the subway station. And I cough. Then I cough again.
Immediately my mind turns to images of rapidly growing tumors, failed chemo, stem cell transplantation, a tragic end and a park bench with my name (and bird shit) on it.
Of course the cough gets no worse, my nose starts to run and I realize that I have a bit of a cold; a result no doubt that week at work - but I hope that this isn't a glimpse of the ghost of Xmas future - every minor ailment a mental crisis... 'cause I REALLY don't want to be that person
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