I am sick.
This is a pain in the proverbial, partly because my particular brand of poorly today comes with an extra-special bonus migraine: one which has knocked out half my vision (and means that while I’m crashed out on the sofa feeling sorry for myself, I can’t even bloody read. And that’s annoying because I quite fancied starting Guy Adams‘s “The World House“).
So. Ill. Can’t see straight. What could mend this sort of a problem?
While I figure that out, have a beer. Or twelve…
I could spend hours on that page–if I could see well enough to, you know, read. Which I can’t, because I’m sick, so.
I could also spend hours on the actual beer… but see my previous complaint.