The best of intentions

I had the best of intentions, but it wasn't to be.

I got up, got dressed, called for a taxi to pick me up and then suddenly felt totally rotten. So I'm not going to uni today.

The inside of my thigh feels like it has had sandpaper rubbed against it. It is so inflamed that I can feel heat coming off it if I hover my hand above the skin. This is a sign that the meds are working, so on the one hand I'm happy about that, but I could do without the searing pain and inconvenience of having to wear parachute pants all the time. Now don't get me wrong, I love my parachute pants - by far the most comfortable I own, but wearing them outside the house to any other location than the local shopping centre spells BOGAN in big shiny letters.