Friday, 2 December 2005


Jokes about bird flu aside, being ill is not fun. I've had a cold now for almost four (!!) weeks.

I never used to be ill. Ever. I had no sick days off for the whole first six years I was at school, and now I've had two in as many months. I really think these shifts are slowly killing me.

But it's not just that. Not knowing where I stand in my life is also strenuous on a day to day basis.

Strangely I've become less anxious about the situation with J and me; maybe I've simply been too tired to care properly. Instead I've turned my irritation onto my poor still depressed flatmate.

Because she's depressed, she has of course largely stopped cleaning and tidying the flat or doing the dishes. J says that dishes are one of the first things to go, as you just stand there with nothing to think of and inevitably start feeling shit about something as a result. He pointed out that the view of an industrial back yard sported by my kitchen doesn't exactly help. Point taken. But someone still has to do the dishes.

And that someone is me.

I'm not completely OCD and it's not that I can't live with a bit of mess, but our kitchen is quite small and with three people using it at the moment, it needs a good clean daily. J does his share but he commutes for three hours every day so I think he's a little exempt from having to clean up after other people. So most of it falls on me.

It has started really annoying me. Having to pass on a phone call to my flat mate when she is clearly crying her eyes out in her room has started annoying me. Listening to her complaining / being paranoid about people in her office who are (understandably) concerned about her mental wellbeing is annoying me.

Yesterday I knew she was crying in her room, but I just couldn't find it in myself to knock on her door and ask if there was anything I could do. Rationally I know this does not make me into a bad person; first of all because there's not much I could do anyway and secondly because I am at the end of the day not responsible for her. Still, I do have a really bad conscience about everyhting. Which of course makes me more irritable. And so on.

Fortunately J has been incredibly sweet all week, rubbing vapo-rub on my chest and back and having sex with me despite me being in a less than most attractive state. And cooking food for me of course. And feeding me unhealthy snacks (inevitably eating more than half himself) and bringing me flowers. Maybe I should be sick more often.

Ironically, or maybe just coincidentally, I have also looked further into becoming a psychologist.

I know that might seem like a silly idea since having just two 'patients' are driving me nuts at the moment, but I find the field really interesting so am probably looking at a change of career this spring. Exciting stuff. I am hoping it'll be easier when I don't have to live with my clients...

Plus I really like the idea of being a 'Dr.' That's reason enough, right?

Although even being a 'Dr.' wouldn't help me cure this cold. *coughhh*. Arrrgh.

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  1. J sounds like he's being great. Actually, I always want lots of sex when I have a cold. Or when I don't, thinking about it. Ahem.

  2. I quote my dear friend who will remain unnamed: "In the summer, I just want sex all the time." Me: "How about during the rest of the year?" "OK, then too."

    It does help during a cold though; orgasming seems to be an excellent decongestant, if only for five min.

  3. All the pyschologists I know seem to have some of the symptoms they often diagnose... That's why I've often wanted to be a pyschologist. That and to be able to mess with peoples minds...


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