Temporary Secretary

Part 23

Don't worry your little reader heads ;) Our beloved MILFcuntney will make his reappearance soon enough.

14 March 1981

4:00pm Saturday

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You didn't think it could be called a sickness. It wasn't that. It was less than that. It was a constant annoyance.

You were completely fine when resting, or lounging about. It was scents that put you off, like most sicknesses, but the annoying thing about scents was that it was impossible to ignore.

It could waft in through a window, or when walking down the street. A woman's perfume would blow past you, and you'd feel about to hurl on the pavement.

To make things worse, the nausea only increased from the previous week, when it had first begun to rear its ugly head.

It was a horrid feeling. That along with the dizziness. And guess what came with the dizziness...? Nausea, again.

You could deal with it fine lying down at home. But the moment something came up, or you were running about the office too much that day, you'd feel a horrible wave of it. You'd have to sit down and wait for your head to stop spinning.

It was only getting worse, rather than better. Or rather, becoming a consistent state.

It could be the stress of a new job. It was a lot more than you'd gotten used to, after the absence of working in a populated hectic office every day from nine to five.

You had to get up, walk about, expend much more social and physical energy than you had working with Paul. Make copies, send faxes, speak to people, sit in on meetings, give clients a ring. A lot more, but you'd get acclimated with it soon enough! It just took some readjusting.

Maybe you'd ought to eat better, but you thought you were keeping with it fine as of late. Not forgoing breakfast, making sure to have a lunch prepared for later.

You knew you were prone to slipping up, but if you adhered strict enough to the routine, you could surely keep it up. You made an effort! You could certainly say that much!

After leaving the pub last night for the third time going out for Friday night drinks (yet unable to bring yourself to drink a thing), saying quick goodbyes to your coworkers, before leaving that god awful place, with its noise and stench of liquor and smoke.

Though not your favorite thing in the world, you'd been fine with it before. Suppose that too required getting reacclimated with. You hadn't really gone out much lately either, not having much of a reason to. It was the social aspect of it really, that you enjoyed, more than the pubs themselves.

Regardless, you'd hastily showered, which was soothing in itself, before crawling beneath your perfectly heavy and welcoming duvet, your head spinning, though pleasantly this time, as you quickly fell under.

At least you didn't have to deal with your common bouts of insomnia when sick, the fatigue doing its job. Perhaps you had a masochistic fondness for it in that way, any excuse to be relaxed in bed without becoming restless.

You woke up relatively better, able to sleep in on the weekend.

That was short lived though, before the nausea kicked it.

Having dashed to the restroom, you hunched over, expelling it.

Your stomach still felt horrible, your skin clammy and damp, but it seemed it was over for you now.