Read the daily, non-fictional tales of a young, unmarried Nigerian woman who lives in Lagos at this time.
Today did not quite go as planned. I had intended to wake early, get some work done and cook some stew with the small pepper I left forgotten in the fridge.
I have been living on Mama Ope’s two loaves of bread and butter along with noodles and the occasional spaghetti for the past four days or so.
Last night, I finally decided I had had enough. The plate of Semovita and well-garnished vegetable soup I came across on Instagram reminded me of how hungry I was. Work, the boss, issues with my mum made eating anything that wasn’t stone seem okay.
I woke late and with a headache. I felt tired, too. I didn’t understand why but getting out of bed even to pee seemed like the hardest thing I ever had to do. So, cooking was the least of my worries.
I held out for a while before taking the last two paracetamol tablets on my bedside table. When it was increasingly difficult to concentrate on work, I popped them in my mouth.
Of course, as can be expected, I did not get any work done. I refused to pick the boss’ call. I just couldn’t deal with him.
My mum finally replied my last text message, which was the umpteenth I had sent between yesterday morning and last night.
She seemed to be in a better mood and I was thankful for that. I responded to her text, then sent another and another.
I stayed curled up in bed the rest of the day. I am feeling a lot better now, though, and just had something to eat.
Hope tomorrow will be better.