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I currently feel completely wiped out. Which is a shame, because I've felt quite cheerful all day. I think the use of energy got to me, though. (Or maybe the not-getting-in-until-2am-and-getting-up-at-9am.) I expect I'm still ill, which is a right nuisance.
Of course, despite the fact I feel like the legendary immovable object and it's barely worth the effort to raise my hands to type, I'm still thoroughly busy this evening. And the next day. And the next.
But it did snow, and there were painted ducks huddling around the Emma plodge door because it was warmer there. It would just be nice if I didn't have the feeling of things accumilating in preparation to cave in and bury me. (Junk in my room, inability to find any time to wash my hair, inability to do any maths because any time I do sit down, my head fills with cotton wool and I collapse into blankness... at some point I have to deal with it all. Also, I've not been keeping track of how much medicine I have, or what I've been agreeing to do, or my food and water intake, or any of those useful things.)
Of course, despite the fact I feel like the legendary immovable object and it's barely worth the effort to raise my hands to type, I'm still thoroughly busy this evening. And the next day. And the next.
But it did snow, and there were painted ducks huddling around the Emma plodge door because it was warmer there. It would just be nice if I didn't have the feeling of things accumilating in preparation to cave in and bury me. (Junk in my room, inability to find any time to wash my hair, inability to do any maths because any time I do sit down, my head fills with cotton wool and I collapse into blankness... at some point I have to deal with it all. Also, I've not been keeping track of how much medicine I have, or what I've been agreeing to do, or my food and water intake, or any of those useful things.)
