Days like these
I sit at work in a sweltering office, the wintertime central-heating not having adjusted to the sudden onset of warmer weather.
Every movement, every slight jolt, is magnified into a grinding pain behind my forehead, as my gradual slope of dehydration over the last few weeks finally constricts around my lobes.
I drink bottle after bottle of water, prompting visits to the downstairs urinals every 20 minutes with each step pounding up through my body like a sledgehammer to my brain.
I sit here, ravenous, having replaced my usual lunchtime foodfest with a slight salad - got to get in shape for the big day, getting ever closer.
I get up to fetch a box of drawing pins and return to my desk. The box slips out of my hand, tacks flying everywhere. I stoop down to pick them up, one by one, from around and within the desk furniture, all 141 of them.
And then the bottom of the half-fill box gives way.
Life's retribution for having enjoyed the weekend too much.