Under Cover

I really lacked inspiration to get up this morning, not quite certain how I managed to claw myself out of bed. With that said, I should have stayed there - in bed. I’m still feeling sick, so I'm not sure why I killed myself to get up and even attempt to go to work in the first place.

At the moment, I’m clutching at straws to draw inspiration; I can't afford to make big changes now, so I’m trying anything, even little things like dressing more casually for work, to get me out of this slump. Regardless of what I try, it doesn’t seem to work.

Being sick, my sense of taste is gone, everything tastes like cardboard, I thought I'd be able to cheer myself up with a burger from Rick's Cafe the other day, no use, no taste. Even the milkshake from the Fire and Ice hotel last night wasn't very inspiring, it tasted like slightly sugary water. Life without taste, to me, is no life at all.

For only God knows why, I decided that taking a different car to work might help change things up a bit, so I borrowed my brothers car. In the parking garage, the person who parks next to me, usually parks poorly. Most days, I avoid this by coming in earlier than her, but this morning, she was there, parked, teetering in my lane. I tried to squeeze into my space and be ultra careful, but somehow managed to scrape the rear wheel arch on the right side of the car in any case. Great.

For some reason, my savings, always ends up going towards fixing cars. I hate cars. The day they invent a scratch-proof, unbreakable, never-breaks-down vehicle, I’ll be the first in line to purchase it.

I sat in the office for about 10 minutes, sick and seething; stewing in my own filth and misery. I decided to speak to my manager and call off sick. I’m back at home, under the covers. Today can’t end quickly enough – Don’t call me, I’ll call you.