Lurgified

Last night I had a PTSD meltdown, due to a powerful trigger on TV, leaving me drained and worn this morning. Having said that, I also have this stupid cold, my body is aching, and I feel like death on wheels even without the PTSD. I am trying to find anything to take, because I am meant to go meet a lovely person and really shouldn't cry off if at all possible. It occurs to me that my traditional cold cure recipe, as inherited from Dad, is a mighty hot toddy, but even he would blanch at having one before 8.30 am.

My Spanish Gran used to make a kitchen soup full of chicken and cabbage and black pudding and chickpeas. From what I can gather it was basically a huge protein shot. I can almost taste it now. But even if it was in front of me, I couldn't drink it because of the pork - I don't eat anything smart if I can help it.

Stuff to do stuff to do.

God, I'm too gone to even write.