I am a broken woman.
The hen do was amazing and Sheffield didn’t know what had hit it but I feel like some kind of casualty of war.
I ache from my head to my feet. My neck hurts but I have no idea why, did it buckle under the pressure of all the hairspray keeping my hair up? My feet hurt, one of them sporting a rather wonderful bruise which was the result of getting in the way of some exuberant dance moves from the Hen. My hamstrings hurt, although this is unsurprising given that I danced solidly for 5/6 hours straight, sitting down was for wusses apparently.
I’m pretty sure that even my fingers hurt.
I couldn’t even tell you if I was hungover yesterday or not (yes I did break the Warfarin rules and drink my little socks off. Fancy dress requires drinks I’m afraid). I can tell you that I was incredibly tired. Incredibly incredibly tired, most likely from the excessive dancing.
The extra hour should have helped us. It should have been an extra hour in bed. But instead we used it as an extra hour of drinking and dancing. My poor little body needed sleep, sleep and more sleep. I even fell asleep during the day, a never heard of activity if you’re me (even if it only was for 30 minutes).
The cold which has been lurking about for weeks and weeks has taken advantage of my run down immune system and is trying to invade my whole body, the lungs have been the first to capitulate and I’m hoping I’m not seeing the return of the cough that irritated and annoyed me for 18 months, only to disappear when I had the embolism. But my body (and more importantly my brain) are telling it to just bugger off, I don’t have time to be ill thank you very much so you might as well just leave.
But was it worth it?
Now excuse me while I curl up in a ball somewhere.