remember, remember, etc., etc.

hard time getting to sleep last night, but then once i was asleep, i stayed that way for about twelve hours.  have been up for a bit now, intending to get some work done (which i didn't do thursday at all, obviously, or yesterday), but still feeling a little ick, so i've tucked some of the anti-nausea meds the nice doctor gave me up under my upper lip and am going to lie down for a bit.  and then when i get up, i'll do the work i've been meaning to do for days, and which i have to do by the time i meet with my supervisor on monday (which was rescheduled from friday, actually, since i sent him a note on thursday around lunchtime and said yeah, tomorrow? not gonna happen).

urk.

tmi

( no, seriously. )

i'm more and more convinced the antibiotics are superfluous, but, i follow medical instructions and continue to take them, and wonder if it's time yet to take my acid blockers again.  [makes a face]  i'm not ready to die anymore, but i sure am still unhappy.

at least we're all laughing together

me, to neighbors in kitchen:  i came to ask if you'd please close the kitchen door and open the windows, because i can smell the garlic all the way down the hall in my room.

them:  but the door is closed and the windows are open.

me:  i know. ... now i have nothing to complain about.

[whine]

i really want some lemonade.  sadly, what i know as lemonade does not properly exist here; order lemonade locally and you'll get 7-Up or a generic equivalent.  to get american-style lemonade, you have to buy lemon juice and make your own.  which i suppose i could do, but not at this hour, and besides, i don't want to make the stuff; i want to drink it.  the nearest thing i could probably get (though, as i say, not at this hour) is probably lemon squash of some kind.  which would only be marginally less bad for my stomach in its current condition than proper lemonade would be.

le sigh.  more ribena it is, then.

so, um, shezan?

the washpost sure makes it sound like most of france is in the throes of The Next Revolution.  how's things, really?  you okay?