The 30th of September.  I had a lovely morning and a horrible afternoon. 

Another okay night, woken up by my alarm. I managed to get a lot of my morning coughs out of the way, then my favourite homeboy, Dan Alani came round! I took him in to the kitty room, where he greatly enjoyed meeting two new little mates. It is a novelty that does not wear off. 

We had a really nice hour and a half, catching up on each other's lives. He is doing so well; I am very proud. We're growing up! Where did the years go? Yet we can fall back into old habits like no time has passed at all. He gives the best hugs. 

He left to go to Aston Villa with Warren, and I had lunch. The cinnamon bun I bought yesterday was very disappointing - not much cinnamon and there were cranberries? Not okay. So I ate the blondie instead. 

Since then, the coughing has been non-stop. I feel wretched. I am so sweaty from the constant effort. And it is this that has lead me to the decision that I can't go to Harry Potter tomorrow. I will ruin the day for everyone concerned, the day will be too long, and I will just make myself more ill. What's worst is that it is my own fault for doing too much. My body is able to ruin anything. The lesson here: don't make plans. 

The 1st of October. 

Ugh. I feel grim. I don't know what time I fell asleep, but I woke up at half past ten when Mommy came in because I had slept through my alarm. Whoops. 

It has been made evident by the amount of tissues in the bin that staying at home was the correct decision. I did not know it was possible for the human body to produce this much phlegm. I've been able to spend most of my day in just a t-shirt because the amount of coughing I've done has kept me so warm. Sweating away. 

I've actually injured my left shoulder this afternoon while I was hurling my body forward. Oh, god. I at least managed to finish Chloe's seal, so I can get that sent off to her as soon as I find an appropriate way to package him. 

Right, I think I'm going to curl up on the floor. Sometimes that helps.