Crater Face

I really, really wanted to vote in the Daylight Savings referendum in WA today. I wanted to proudly say NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. As it happens, my "no" vote has even more relevance considering my current appearance is more like what you'd expect to find in the dark corners of the night.

I have Chicken Pox. I never caught it as a child, but I kinda figured that since I'm nearly 30 that I'd avoided ever having to worry about it. Not the case. After surviving a busy day at work on Monday (I can't believe I did - I'm obviously a strong, virile near-30-year-old) where my whole body was aching and I was alternating between shivering and sweating, I took Tuesday off. I can't remember much of the day amidst the feverish dreaming and sweating, but I was sufficiently coherent on Wednesday to organise a doctor's visit where I discovered the terrible news.

At that point, I still looked human. I was able to walk amongst the general public and appear like I belonged. Now, that didn't last long. By Thursday, I was resembling something out of a David Cronenberg movie. Totally gross. Redness, spots, leaking fluids, you name it. My parents arrived on Friday to "look after me", but the veracity of this statement was somewhat undermined by the fact they'd brought with them enough anti-bacterial material to survive an apocalyptic George A. Romero opus. Not to mention they'd back away in horror if I came within metres of them.

So you understand my apprehension in going out in public to cast my vote. Although it would have given me great joy to leave the house and scare small children, I am what you call a "human monster" with (according to my mum) 35 spots on my face, so I remain inside to keep the general population safe. And hopefully, if the "no" vote succeeds, I can be left to live out the rest of my existence in the dark, or at least as the basis of the scary stories that keep children awake at night.