I am a disaster zone right now. In two days time, I will be driving the van home from work and lugging boxes of accumulated bullshit to my new home, but only if I can handle it.
The problem is, I'm deteriorating. I currently make Joe Merrick look sexy, providing he's been hosed down and crowbarred into a Ted Baker.
And yes, I'm aware he's dead.
And the Elephant Man.
I can't breathe very well; my nose is blocked. I have a sore throat, just a couple of weeks after I got rid of my last sore throat. I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and can't get back to sleep, and I'm going through those medicated balm tissues quicker than a Premiership footballer goes through dim orange women.
And last night, as I sat staring at the TV double-sneezing and with my left eye weeping, I noticed the (thankfully very weak) skin condition I've had for years on my knees and elbows starting to explore my calves and ankle regions.
I'm basically turning into a giant wart.
But it's - ugh - this throaty sinusey thing though. Somewhere up behind my nose and at the back of my throat is a sea of gunk, a bit like that underground river in Ghostbusters 2, except this is solid and not running as freely, and Dan Aykroyd hasn't fallen in it.
It's completely impervious to Lemsip, and it's itchy too, which is irritating as I can't quite reach in to scratch it.
I don't know, this is all like some kind of cold.
It's an odd one though, as I still have my sense of taste. It's like full-on illness, except just a notch below it, just one stage under 'Close The Door and Go To Bed', thus I get to go to work to cough and complain and eat shit sandwiches.
Oh yeah, and I have a painful mouth ulcer, not to mention a rectum that feels like a bleeding Hula-Hoop trying to pass a tank.
"Hello Doctor, please can you probe my anus?"
I think this is Zen, pissing on my housemove.