Filth

I'm sick at the moment. So is Tidiness Nazi housemate Steph so it's probably best we paint a big cross on the door to warn others that there be disease within the dwelling.

....or did they do that to tell the Angel of Death to fuck off?

I may be getting my biblical/actual plagues mixed up but hell, I'm delirious. I'm sick I tells ya!

Having been sick for the past few days I have lived a wonderful, hermit-like existence pretty much alone in my room. It's been bliss (apart from the feeling crap thing). I've laid there drifting in and out of sleep having the most fantastically vivid dreams and even coming up with THE most fantastic/award winning stand up routine of my career. Of course, I've forgotten the bugger now so fame and comedy glory remain tantalisingly out of reach. I do remember that part of it was to do with the time I was startled by my own genitalia very early one morning but that's another story.

Anyhoo, back to this story. To recap, I lay in bed enjoying the peace and solitude (coughing) alone in my kingdom. It took a while but when I sort of looked around with fresh eyes I realised, that my kingdom was actually somewhat of a dump. There is the paint splash over my lovely hippy rug where I accidentally tipped all that paint over myself whilst being extra careful not to spill paint over my stuff, there is the chunk of newly/un-uniformly painted wall that I left about 2 months ago 'cause I decided I hated the colour, there is all the stuff from the wardrobe I decided I no longer wanted piled up against the wall (and falling down all over the place), there's a wall shelf hanging off with a few things still precariously balanced on top, a pile of clothes atop the old holiday suitcase, a pile of clothes on top of the laundry basket (clean) and a load of clothes hanging out of the laundry basket (dirty) but there are also books balanced on the clean clothes on top and it's all very precisely balanced. Then there's all the floor crap. I won't even go there. I sat up and sort of looked around and realised that my attempt at de-cluttering my life had failed. There, I admitted it.

I then noticed the layer of dust on some of the long term crap and with a wry smile and nod to myself concluded that rather than look like a haven of peace and tranquility, my room contained so much dirt it was akin to an episode of Time Team. I bet if I moved the pile of boxes and books I'd be able to release Tony Robinson back into the community. No wonder he hasn't been seen for a while...

Thinking about it, I desperately need to change my bed sheets which I've sweated fever into. They are so disgusting there is a definite outline of my body on them. Like a slob's Turin Shroud. I have to admit, this isn't the first time I've had Turin Shrouding of my bedclothes. If only I had the gift of shame I'd erm, be ashamed.