I really should award stickers for one thing or another every entry -- whether it be for being able to correctly identify where the entry's title comes from, or just some obscure reference in the entry itself. Last entry's sticker was won in record time, so I'm interested to see who will win this one.
There's not a whole lot to say today. After all my sulking, I'm actually sorta glad to be back in Leicester. I like having the space to myself, I like cooking for myself when I feel like it, and I like just lying around on my bed listening to music or reading. I found I could plug my computer's speakers and sub-wooofer into my cd-mp3 player, so with my newly burnt cd of epic length I am just enjoying doing nothing.
After I got out the pool yesterday and dried off I found a worrying red rash over one arm. I got chills as I examined it and remembered photographs of the rash that comes with meningitis. But I lacked all other symptoms, so I just got dressed and ignored it. Since I am not dead today, and the rash has gone away, it was probably a reaction to the washing powder or something. The strange thing about me is that I have a kind of death wish. If in the shower I come across what can only be described as a lump in a place guys dread, what do I do about it? Nothing. If I come out in a rash which could mean that I have developed meningitis and without medical attention could be dead in days, what do I about it? Ignore it. But it's a nice day out, so let's not dwell on that.
The sun is shining and it's warm out, and for what I have of the day I'm trying to get a few jobs done before the taxi picks me up for the airport, and my trip to Cork. All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go (and no, you don't get a sticker for that reference), and I guess this is my way of saying that if you don't hear anything from me for the next week, that's why.
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