Dearest Stridey Lotus Blossom,

Update on my extreme pain and suffering, in case you aren't feeling sorry enough for me yet.

Head hurty and cough has REgressed from foul bronchial to dry tickly, so that each explosion sets my cranial panels vibrating in a miserably painful staccato.

Am almost certainly at death's door and then my boss will be sorry he crossed me, if I cark it before 6 pm. Ha ha ha

Fuck. Fuckity fuck.

My kind, eldest offspring said, before leaving for school "I wanted to massage your neck, but I've already put my gloves on." At least the thought was there.

Painful quisses,

Missus Moany McWhingePants

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PS If I could drown myself in a vat of your wonderful soup, it go down in history as The Best Death Evah.