Doctor, doctor
I spent more of last night in the bathroom than the bedroom.
Just thought you should know. Photos to follow, if you’re particularly unlucky.
Once Vesuvius had subsided, I ached my way back upstairs and collapsed onto the bed. Ten minutes later there was a ring at the door. ‘Twas Mandy from next door.
“Are you alright, my love?”
“Not really. Had a bad night, mostly in the bathroom.”
“Oh dearie me. You should go back to bed.”
“I had.”
Must apologise when I next see her - I’ve the feeling I may have come across a little too brusque.
An appointment’s been made to see Dr. Whatsit (for first thing Wednesday) but I certainly hope to be in work tomorrow (otherwise they’ll have sold off my desk ornaments and stuff, I expect). Must find out why the slightest thing is wiping me out these days.
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