In bed with fever
Yes, you read it right, in bed with fever, not feverish in bed. Though I'd like that more, I can tell. It might be better to stop right here, since my present state of well-being, which is not very well at the moment, seems to lower my indigenously high morals and lead my train of thought to a very dubious realms. Oh my.
So, the little Halloween journey to my dear old granny wasn't as harmless as I thought it would be. Yes, it saved me from those creepy vamps (and I'm not referring to vampires with that) that assault me every now and then in the most undesirable ways, but instead I got to suffer from damp bedsheets, merciless chill and that gruesome Scottish weather. I may have deceived those fan-girls, but couldn't swindel the good old autumn gale.
Damn it. I'm not going to bore you with the details of my morbid condition. I'll just say that this darn brightness makes me want to dig my aching eyes of my head. I tried to brew something to ease this pain that keeps hammering my forehead, but I guess nothing, exept time, really cures the infernal common cold. I can almost see that demon of influenza wagging me the banner that says "REST, you stupid idiot!"
I know I have been working too much. And that's the commendation I get for all that labour.
Have a nice weekend. I have a plan how to spend mine: 1) Stay alive. 2) Get well.
I hope that's not too much to ask.
Severus Snape is property of J.K Rowlings, the author of Harry Potter -books the writings are mine though.