I'm writing this through a fog of painkillers, anti-nausea tablets and general vileness. Dear reader, your beloved TBNIL is sick. I think I realised this when I woke up on the floor of our meeting room at work.
I'd only lay down because my head was spinning, but I'd been there for three hours. Well done Debbie for being concerned and coming to check on me. She didn't, of course - I was left to sleep.
Having woken up with an imprint of the carpet tiles on my face, I bundled myself into a taxi and headed home.
Anyway, I've slept most of the afternoon, punctuated by an hour or so lay in the bath (it was the comfortablest place I could find - do you think I'm in labour?).
So, I was a little distressed when my mobile rang and woke me up, but it was my Mom and I figured she may have words of wisdom for me. Now, any of you who have been here before will know that expecting words of wisdom from my mother Is a lost cause. She's like Rose from the Golden Girls, only not so bright.
"Hello bab", she said. She always calls me 'bab' or 'the bab' or 'the babby', what with me being the youngest and she being a Brummie Mummy. You can imagine that I love this.
"Have you been trying to get hold of me, bab?"
"No, not today, why?" I said, leaving my 'I'm sick' announcement until she asks how I am.
"Well the phone has been ringing all day"
"Why didn't you answer it?" I asked, reasonably enough, I thought.
"Because I've been locked in the kitchen". She said this as if I should know.
"You've been locked in the kitchen? How long for?"
"Since 8.15 this morning - the locksmith just got me out". It was 3pm in the UK.
Now, it seems that my mother had got up, gone downstairs and made herself a morning cuppa. As usual. And as usual with old lady houses, hers is like Fort Knox. She has locks on every door. As she finished her drink and went to get a shower, she realised that the kitchen door had locked itself behind her and she was trapped with no keys, no phone and no way out.
She'd spent the day waiting for someone to walk up the street at the right angle to be able to see her frantically banging the window. Apparently, four people had seen her, waved and walked on by. They're off her christmas card list already.
Eventually the neighbour walked past. The neighbour has her front door key too - but her own key was in the other side, so his was no use. Which is where the locksmith came in.
"Why didn't you climb through the window?" I asked.
"Because I had no knickers on. I didn't want anyone looking at my fairy".
And I thought that I was the sick one today.