Much, much worse than yesterday.
I can barely move.
And, typically, the first day in like, forever, there's a knock at the door! The Xym has visitors!
Too weak to answer. Drag meself to the door - damn, John & Jo dropping off my pressies that thoughtless folk thought to bring to the pub knowing I was off to The Whatacunt and unable to carry pressies about.
Thank goodness for Pretties with bags to hump about Xym's gifts!
Apologies to any further visitors, but I shalln't be answering the door for fear of further infection and DEATHS!
