So, Monday morning, ay? Broken skin around my nostrils, I can feel it ripple and sting as I yawn. A weeping eye, with unspecified crunchy gunge in the corner. Oh, such a stiff back, a walk to the shop will fix that. A wheezing chest, oh not good. A cough from hell. Could I have just one last j before I set my cough off again like a Gatling Gun. Sore knee, from bike riding, why I ask? And a Dodgy ankle, I think from the same. Apparently, problems with knees and feet are a resistance to moving forward, resistance to change, David loves to tell me, which he connects to my non-show at my writer's group, oh so pointedly.

So, you'll understand when I say I'm not feeling altogether too pretty.

Shane's gone to work, I don't know how?

Missy meowed for a second time as I was making coffee and was flung outside, with a rather incredulous look on her fat face.

I'd go back to bed, but I pulled the bed clothes off, first thing. As I was trying to doze this morning, parts of my doona smelt sour. Er!

What's that about? I'll have to get onto the cleaner. She complains when the three of us leave bedclothes out for changing on the same day, she says she doesn't have enough time left to clean properly. So I decided I could change the sheets myself... and now they smell sour.

I'm glad she's not coming today.

David has gone to New Zealand for 10 days, staying with my ex-boyfriend in Auckland. I've got the house to myself.

And I get to clean up. Fuck me! How many bombs went off in here? Everybody came over last night.

The washing machine is chugging, the dishwasher is whirring, the morning is drifting.

Excuse me while I cough up a body part. My lungs have turned into rabbits. Not feeling all together too marvellous, as one might expect.

It's just not worth it, he says with a giddy head from too much coughing. Sure, it might all seem shiny and colourful and amazing and consciousness altering, whizz, whir, bang, weeeeeeeeeeeeee while it is all happening, but when it stops...! I really don't feel so good.

I reckon I could manage a fitted sheet, then pull the doona over me, without a cover.