Day 134 & 135: From Stranger Things, Feeling Cold, Queasy, to Counting Down to Poland & Packing Panic
- Nov 28
- 4 min read
Thursday – Day 134: A human popsicle, a headache, and the emotional support of Stranger Things.
I woke up Thursday feeling like a weak Victorian child who needed broth and a blanket and perhaps a fainting couch to dramatically collapse onto. Bit headachy, a touch fragile, and honestly the perfect candidate to star in a tragic Netflix documentary called “Not Today, Immune System”.
And of course, I cannot be ill now.
Absolutely not.
Universe, LISTEN - I have Poland coming up.
Snow, parents, Christmas markets, pierogi.
I refuse to battle influenza while dragging my corpse across Kraków Square like some sort of diseased Dickens orphan.
Reject the sick, return to pierogi.
Weigh-in! Week 19.
Nineteen.
Nineteen.
That’s almost twenty.
That’s basically adulthood.
FIFTH FORM, driving lessons, acne, first heartbreak - that level of time has passed since the first jab.
And boom - another 0.8lbs down.
Nearly 32lbs in total.
Sis, I’ve practically lost a medium sized corgi.
Or a carry-on suitcase filled with regrets and carbs.
I’m lighter, smaller, faintly smug.
Pretty good, if you ask me.
Breakfast was maple protein pancakes - basically like having dessert at 8am but pretending it’s healthy because protein.
(Collagen coffee as standard - the potion, the ritual, the elixir of youth.
One day I will emerge utterly wrinkleless like a haunted porcelain doll.)
Brain activity?
Minimal.
My brain was on airplane mode.
Not even WiFi-only mode.
FULL OFF.
PowerPoint slides blurred together like abstract art.
Emails pinged nonstop like I was under digital machine-gun fire.
Thank you Copilot, you robotic angel - you basically did my job while I sat there clicking things like a malfunctioning Roomba.
Because once you know holiday is coming?
Switch flipped.
Productivity gone.
Outside, heating blasting, yet somehow I was Arctic Expedition Level Cold.
I lost feeling in two fingers and had to wear gloves indoors like a Victorian chimney sweep or a Disney princess trapped in a refrigerator.
Who am I?
The penguin ambassador?
Ice Age extra #4?
Next week you will find me hoarding acorns with Scrat, wide-eyed and feral.
Lunch was tomato soup with peas.
Peas.
I love peas.
Floating like tiny green martyrs performing synchronized drowning.
Not hungry though - the day before jab usually means food noise like rats in a metal bin - but NOTHING.
Silent.
Peaceful.
Suspicious.
BUT THEN...
The universe launched a Black Friday email apocalypse at me.
Every notification:
BUY.
PURCHASE.
CONSUME.
Felt like modern-day dementors trying to suck out my debit card information.
No.
Leave me alone.
I am cold, tired, and financially defensive.
Dinner: one lonely southern chicken piece.
I daintily consumed it like I was starring in a Victorian consumption recovery montage.
Still queasy, stomach doing interpretive dance for three days straight.
No idea why.
Could be jab.
Could be gremlins.
But THEN...
THE MAIN EVENT.
THE MOMENT I WAITED FOR LIKE A THEATRE KID BEFORE CURTAIN RISE...
STRANGER THINGS SEASON 5.
My skin erupted into goosebumps like Will detecting Vecna, and I avoided the internet all day like it was contagious (which honestly, it is).
Episode 1: slow burn.
Episode 2:
BOOM.
Chaos.
Suspense.
Nancy-Steve-Jonathan triangle STILL triangular.
Why?
How?
Who approved this geometry?
And Dustin?
WHAT IS HE DOING? WHAT IS HAPPENING?
I am distressed in a good way.
Tomorrow - more.
Bring popcorn.
Bring therapy. Bring the Upside Down.
Friday – Day 135: Snot, laundry trauma, and the heroic battle against packing.
Alarm rang.
Brain said no.
Nose said NOPE.
Headache said we ride at dawn, btch*.
I lay in bed like a slug on holiday, refusing the concept of movement.
At 4am and 5am, Ruby - God bless her unpredictable podcasting mind - decided to narrate a full philosophical monologue.
At that ungodly hour she discussed topics I cannot legally disclose.
One more early morning TED Talk from that dog and I’ll enroll her in therapy.
Eventually, I rolled out of bed like a corpse being exhumed.
Did I shower?
No.
Did I wash hair?
Absolutely not.
Cameras were not on the agenda.
If Microsoft Teams dared ask me to turn on video, I would simply pass away.
Quick driving mission to the surgery for meds.
Narrow country lanes.
People driving like they’re reenacting Fast & Furious: Kent Edition.
Some drivers treat speed limits as suggestions, and road width as kindling.
Every car coming towards me: “today we duel.”
Returned home and rewarded myself with coffee and soda bread with Philly cheese and ham - honestly elite combo.
Still headachy, sinusy, mildly tragic.
Plus, the Packing Doom Cloud hovered over me like a dementor with a clipboard.
Instead of packing like a responsible adult, I started 3 LOADS OF LAUNDRY.
Plus the duvet - because Ruby spewed on it like an uncontrolled fire hose.
Beautiful timing.
Stunning chaos.
I love her deeply but WHY ON BEDDING DAY BEFORE A HOLIDAY.
Work continued though my brain was away on annual leave without approval.
Meetings.
Deadlines.
Typing that looked like I was wearing oven mitts.
Lunch?
Didn’t want it.
Jabbed at 12:30 - the ritual.
Post-jab dinner plans extremely uncertain.
Maybe fish fingers if my stomach behaves like a civilised organ.
Black Friday emails once again invaded like ants on a doughnut.
I went full unsubscribe warrior mode.
DELETE.
BLOCK.
EXORCISE.
Retailers, please - go jump in a recycling bin and stay there quietly.
Clothes sorting commenced - piles everywhere.
I think I know what I’m taking, which means I will still overpack by 40%.
Poland is Antarctic right now so I must layer like a human lasagne. Mounjaro-chilled body needs thermal support.
Tonight’s plan:
Hot bath
Pack both suitcases
Stranger Things Episodes 3 & 4 (scream, cry, panic, enjoy)
Sleep like a Victorian child post-plague
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