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Nov. 10th, 2006 01:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolSo, I'm currently trying to type very quietly. This is surprisingly hard to do, but I suppose goes for proof that I am trying to be a better person. Simon, you see, is finally asleep, having been coughing fairly violently all night. I have spent most of the night making honey and lemon and making sympathetic noises.
*sighs*
Sodding typical, really. I think since this summer I've gotten used to the idea that something will happen when I go to see Simon. He'll be ill. I'll be ill. Or something, god knows what, will get in the way. We were supposed to be going to Formal tonight, which probably won't be happening now, and yes, I'm very selfishly upset about that, but I'm hardly going to go without him, so instead I will sit around and mope and hope that feeding him painkillers and letting him sleep will do the trick. It's just... unfair, because these last couple of days were meant to be just us, because his workload isn't desperate at the moment, not like it was earlier this week. We don't get a vast deal of time together as it is, so it sucks that whenever we do, something like this always crops up. He's not exactly desperately ill - I'm quietly calling manflu - but either way, he will sit around and be miserable, which is understandable, as the coughing is bloody awful, although he's not running a fever which is a good sign. Sleeping will do the job, I have to keep on telling myself.
I go back to my mouldly house in two days, back to work, back to hard graft all the bloody time, back to sleeping alone. Yay.
(I'm not, by the way, asking for sympathy or anything. This is more just a reflection on sod's law.)
*sighs*
Sodding typical, really. I think since this summer I've gotten used to the idea that something will happen when I go to see Simon. He'll be ill. I'll be ill. Or something, god knows what, will get in the way. We were supposed to be going to Formal tonight, which probably won't be happening now, and yes, I'm very selfishly upset about that, but I'm hardly going to go without him, so instead I will sit around and mope and hope that feeding him painkillers and letting him sleep will do the trick. It's just... unfair, because these last couple of days were meant to be just us, because his workload isn't desperate at the moment, not like it was earlier this week. We don't get a vast deal of time together as it is, so it sucks that whenever we do, something like this always crops up. He's not exactly desperately ill - I'm quietly calling manflu - but either way, he will sit around and be miserable, which is understandable, as the coughing is bloody awful, although he's not running a fever which is a good sign. Sleeping will do the job, I have to keep on telling myself.
I go back to my mouldly house in two days, back to work, back to hard graft all the bloody time, back to sleeping alone. Yay.
(I'm not, by the way, asking for sympathy or anything. This is more just a reflection on sod's law.)
