Today is the fifth day - and a bit - that I've been ill now, with a mother of a cold. And a very insistent one, that - typically, that only happens with germs and general nuisances - grew quite fond of me over a very brief period, apparently. Sort of like the Alex Forrest of colds, really. Well there ain't no rabbit for you to boil here, missy, no use outstaying your welcome.
I'm not a very pleasant person to talk to when I'm ill. Especially not if you're an overly concerned neighbour - although I acknowledge that it's sweet of you to care, phoning me three times in two days when I'm already trying to get rid of a cold is not a good move: you will understand, I'm sure, that I can't really afford to waste my dwindling strength on two projects at once.
I'm also not very nice if you're the Post-Office, and I'm waiting for a parcel that was sent, and paid quite dearly for that matter, as express delivery, and that I still haven't received a full week after it's been sent. So I will pay a visit to you, germs, fever, sneezes and coughs in tow, and I will not be pleasant. And I will not be pleasant to you when I phone your customer service to give you a piece of my mind, and I will not be pleasant to you when you phone me back to keep me posted - pun not really intended. Especially since you're aware of my complaint, and you cannot possibly think it's unjustified, and still you try to out-unpleasant me. Just so you know: you can't - and I don't even have to be rude to be that unpleasant. And when you tell me that I'm about to receive it and you wait because you expect me to thank you, I will out-wait you. And you will sound silly when you give in and wish me a pleasant day.
Man, I hate colds so much.