You guys, I am so tired of coughing I can’t even tell you. SO TIRED. (I was really excited yesterday, because my sore throat had started to fade. Cut to this morning, where I wake up to find I had apparently done nothing but swallow shards of glass all night. GREAT.)
Things are moderately terrible right now on a lot of different fronts, but I’m doing what I can to deal with stuff. And the stuff I can’t deal with, I’m sticking my fingers in my ears and shutting my eyes and going “LALALALA!” as loud as I can in the hopes that it will go away. It…is not the best of schemes.
(The problem is I don’t talk to anybody. That’s always been the problem. I’m convinced I’m supposed to figure everything out on my own, so instead of seeking the counsel and comfort of friends and family, I, y’know, write vague blog entries and spend the majority of my time indoors, watching British television. By myself. Which is pretty great, but probably not great for me.)
I’m trying to get some Spring cleaning done in-between throat-shredding, guttural coughs (you guys my throat hurts so much I know I am whining about it all the time but ow ow ow it burnnnnns us precious [based on the novel “Push” by Sapphire]). Spring makes me antsy. I want to throw away everything I own and start from the ground up; new furniture, new apartment, new life, new me. Somebody point me towards the reset button, please.
Blurgh. Here, let’s have something fun: It looks like France made a movie just for me! Merci beau-freakin’-coup, France! (That’s what’s wrong with my life: I’m not a kick-ass Edwardian adventuress. I will endeavor to remedy that with all due haste.)