Worse, when Laura called to confirm our plans for the day, I felt honour-bound to cancel, knowing I would be too filled with desire to avoid her lips and so spread my illness to her.
So, I spent the day re-reading Solomon Gursky Was Here and fooling around on the computer, when I was resting. This is, I think, the 3rd time this year a cold (or something like it) has chosen a weekend to take up residence in my chest - I grow weary of its timing.
To ice the cake (with phlegm), I am carrying a pager this week - on call. And this morning, there is a message informing me that one of our machines is down.
Unwashed and clammy, my mustache (such as it is) untrimmed and tickling my lip, I must now hie myself to the office and see what is to be done.
No doubt, I'll be feeling fresh as the proverbial daisy come Monday morning.
mutter mutter mutter mutter mutter ...