This will make the half century of entries. I should do something celebratory, but baking a cake is futile internet-ically speaking. I feel slightly better than I did, with the help of paracetamol, naproxen and the occasional hot toddy. My biggest achievements for the last few days involve going to work, talking to the boys and shaving my legs. If you complain to a razor company that your legs are not silky smooth, do they send someone out to check? Does a little man with a doctor's bag come out and ask to stroke your shin? "Hmm, yes Ms Lateonenite, I see what you mean"?
I seem to have quit smoking, which has prolonged the illness. I almost hesitate to say it, because it's only been a week. Strangely I don't have any (more) cravings for the nicotine (so far), which is just as well, because nicotine replacement therapies make me want to hurl. Seriously. Barf city. Over the weekend I kept picturing myself stopping at a service station on my way home from work, but it was late and I was tired. Today I keep thinking along the lines of not wanting to quit, because I'm a rebel, a crazy young kid living for the now. Sure I am.
Now I've spent time typing this out, of course I really, really, really want to have a smoke. Too bad I don't have any then, isn't it?
We have a (relatively) new supermarket near us that boasts the wonders of the self-service checkout. Small lad keeps calling it the Silver Surfer. All we need is a Fantastic Four deli counter and we'll have the set. (Would the Thing be slicing meat, or would he be a kind of pastrami?)
In an effort to change up on my dream cycles, to wit: ditch the damn zombies, I've been mainlining Blackadder and Red Dwarf. It seems to be working except for re-reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies yesterday. I don't know why I did it either. I like the book, a lot, but that doesn't make up for being pursued by drippy corpses in my sleep.
Dear Tarted-Up White Pages Website,
Perhaps when I search for a business at a given postcode and suburb, I am not searching for a business at a completely-different-suburb-on-the-other-side-of-Sydney-but-I-can't-tell-that-until-I-click-on-that-link. Just a thought.
Disgruntled.
It really is late and I am tired. This is shift four out of five and my eyelids are ready to slam shut. Time to move around. Midnight will be here soon and I'll have lots to do after that. Mwahahahaha!
