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It’s Friday, again. Spirits are supposed to be high, in anticipation of the long break and possibly fun, ahead; and the short working day that is Friday itself, as the better half of the day is spent looking at the watch, doing everything but work, while waiting for the opportune moment to dash out and get back to living your life. It’s the big climax to the working week. It’s the day we’ve all been waiting for. Or is it?

This is not me, but I can't confirm I wasn't there.

Friday fun. This is not me, but I can’t confirm I wasn’t there.

Well, not in my corner of the globe, most definitely. As soon as the stimulus that is daylight plied my eyes open, I started wondering who placed a tonne of bricks on my head, and why anyone would hate me so much. I pushed the covers away, turned around in bed, no sign of a single brick. Well, what’s that? Stretch, turn around some more. I felt (or did I hear it?) a snapping sound. Is that my neck? Surely this is how people die in their beds, and they claim she died peacefully in her sleep, of natural causes. It’s death by neck-snap as you stretch and turn in your bed, while trying to figure out why your head is both heavy and light at the same time.

Gosh, I’m breathing too shallow and heavy. Why does it feel like I got a nose job in my sleep? Oh boy, oh crap! I’m sick. Someone must hate me so much. Why, oh why, would I wake up sick on a Friday morning? And how did it get to 10:00am, I went to bed earlier than usual last night! Sweet Lord, it’s 11.30! I, definitely, am sick. On Friday!

Maybe if I just get out of bed now and throw the curtains open really fast, have the sunlight streaming in, I’ll suddenly realise I’m not sick at all, my head is not heavy and light, my wind pipe is not a clogged chimney, and my throat doesn’t feel like a road block. Maybe.

Maybe I’ll just lie here a while longer.

PS. Please refrain from leaving get-well soon messages. This is not a hypochondriac’s cry out into the dark; simply yours truly, writing whatever wills itself to her fingertips, as always. That all-so important bit said, enjoy your weekend. Maybe I’ll hear about it on your blogs. Or not, depending on your style.

À bientot.

PPS. And you, dear family member that is still inexplicably lurking around here, should I receive an email or DM about this, …just know that ain’t cool. Checking up on me like this, using this medium, shouldn’t be your pass time of choice. Please find some other interesting blogs to read, things more to your taste and hobbies. It’s why people read blogs. You’d be surprised how much people are upto around here. Seriously, but with love, me.