I wish it was a piece of lettuce stuck to the roof of my mouth...

...it was a layer of skin instead. Oh lovely.
I also managed to flash my knickers to just about everyone I walked past today in the village thanks to the bad combination of a cotton dress and the sea breeze.
Oh, and I managed to go for lunch in the place who declined work for me this summer (despite working for them for years) and would've looked less desperate and bitter if I had gone in there on my hands and knees, begging for shifts.
I can't even have my daily 2.30 brew either, my mouth hurts.
Right, I'm staying in from now on. I'm safer.

I'm not a hypochondriac but...

...doctors don't know anything.

I went on the NHS Direct website, I almost definitely had pneumonia, not "stress related coughing that would benefit from some 'relaxation techniques'." Stupid lady. So then I made a brew and everything was alright again until I started to rethink about our conversation and started thinking about what I should have said;
"Yeah, lady, I do have history of anxiety attacks but I also have history of falling over quite a lot, how does this have any relation to a chest infection?"
She even had the cheek to cough during our 'meeting'. Maybe I should have diagnosed her based on her sexual history and told her that her cough would benefit from a bit more lovin' three times a day.

I really hate her.
But I'm over it, 'cos Hogan Knows Best is on and I have mint choc chip ice cream.
*cough*
Shit, where's my yoga DVD?