head(s) a-splode

Bleah. The Evil Landlord, damn him, has gifted me with his 'flu. I am a disgusting snuffly object, rendered worse by my tendency, in moments of stress, to grab the tissue imbued with olbas oil and apply it to my nose instead of sniffing it. This means that the pink nose of too much blowing has become the traffic-light-red nose of actual skin irritation. All things considered, it's as well that I woke up this morning, winced, thought "Hell, no", and phoned in sick. I would infallibly have plugged in the eye the first student who addressed me as "Rudolph."

So, the first part of the day I dealt with by taking one Advil and a hot rum toddy, and going straight back to bed. The rest of the day I dealt with by playing Bioshock, which I have to say is extremely atmospheric, beautifully retro, interestingly subaqueous and occasionally nasty even on the Very Easy setting. Then again, I'm not a bundle of co-ords even on my good days, and today was not one of those. The afternoon was thus punctuated by squeaks, curses, and a recurring tendency to mix up plasmids with machine gun ammo and be horribly killed in combat by genetic zombies while stabbing ineffectually at quite the wrong keys. Also, since all fancy special abilities are powered by something called EVE, my severely 'flu-ridden brain is insisting on faint, lingering crossovers with J D Robb. Trippy.

Sid and I am going to bed now. If I don't wake up Much Better tomorrow, there are going to be Ructions.