I wore gloves cycling to work today; my fingers were starting to get uncomfortably cold. Work was insanely busy; I only managed to report two scans the entire morning I had been interrupted so much (phone calls, monitored cases, CT problems, ultrasound cases, clinicians wandering in to talk loudly to their visitors as if we were zoo animals on display…). I was glad when I finally got to go home and it wasn’t raining. I cycled hard but the cold air gave me an asthma attack. I haven’t used my Ventolin for so long I couldn’t remember where it was. My airways constricted and I coughed up thick phlegm. The cold air burned. It took forever for the lift to get to the 40th floor. I had an audible wheeze by the time the doors opened. It wasn’t in my desk drawer; it had been in my backpack the whole time.
Dan had an equally busy day and, throughout it all, he fielded a rush of emails for the wedding: we’ve secured a Canadian Officiant to be present at the ceremony and perform the legally required parts of our ceremony, we’ve booked a place for dinner with out-of-town visitors, as a Buck’s Night, the DJ replied to Dan’s email and the designers for each of our rings had emailed us updates. It’s really happening.
Neither of us was keen to cook dinner and, in a Truman Show moment, Pete called; he’d cooked pumpkin soup and a Cesar salad, enough for us too. It was perfect timing, and a creamy soup. Neighbours to the rescue. We watched Hercules, which I mistook for a very long pilot episode of a new TV series (last night we saw Flash).
Bed looks so good right now.