In the middle of the week
The flu seems to be unrelenting, although it seems to be getting a little better. Now I can actually talk again, although the cough and sniffles still persist. Well, if the amount of flu drugs I've used doesn't do anything, then nothing will. I've gotta say I don't even remember when I've last had a cold this resilient.
I decided to drop out one of the book exams I've got coming. There's no sense in wearying myself down, and there is this big Interenet course I need to attend to, too. So I can't really use all my spare time by reading. Plus I still have those lecture diaries to write... I wonder when I'll get them started.
We were supposed to have a small gathering tonight at my friend's place, but apparently most of people are sick or otherwise occupied. Secretly, I'm kind of pleased - I wouldn't have been able to go because I need to get rid of this flu, and I don't want to spread it to others.
I don't have special plans for the end of the week. I guess I should clean up my place tomorrow - the floors are all dusty and the bathroom really requires some attention. And there are, of course, the studies. Also, I might bake something, like baked rolls, on Friday, and then there is this party a friend is having. I'm not sure yet whether I'll go. I guess I could go see another friend, too, or go shopping. And I could use a hair cut - my hair has gotten kind of messy and it's been long since I last had it cut. So there are plenty of things to do after all. Maybe I'll buy some wine and try writing something. I've been having this need to write for days now, but haven't really gotten myself to actually write anything.
I want to spring to come sooner. I usually like the winter and wish for it to linger, but this year I'm pretty much craving for the snow to melt and the world to start blooming. Every day it seems that there is a little bit more light than the day before. I kind of hate the stage when there is still so much snow, yet it is so warm that it will turn into wet slush. And the trees and bushes won't start getting green until late April, so there's still long way to go. I still remember what a shock it was when we visited Ireland couple of years ago; we left the cold, gray Finland and arrived to the warmth and greenness. It was so warm one didn't need a jacket, the sun was actually shining most of the time and there were flowers and trees and green everywhere. I wish I could go to Ireland again...
Oh, and by the way: Abney Park's Letters Between A Little Boy And Himself As An Adult is larger than life.
I decided to drop out one of the book exams I've got coming. There's no sense in wearying myself down, and there is this big Interenet course I need to attend to, too. So I can't really use all my spare time by reading. Plus I still have those lecture diaries to write... I wonder when I'll get them started.
We were supposed to have a small gathering tonight at my friend's place, but apparently most of people are sick or otherwise occupied. Secretly, I'm kind of pleased - I wouldn't have been able to go because I need to get rid of this flu, and I don't want to spread it to others.
I don't have special plans for the end of the week. I guess I should clean up my place tomorrow - the floors are all dusty and the bathroom really requires some attention. And there are, of course, the studies. Also, I might bake something, like baked rolls, on Friday, and then there is this party a friend is having. I'm not sure yet whether I'll go. I guess I could go see another friend, too, or go shopping. And I could use a hair cut - my hair has gotten kind of messy and it's been long since I last had it cut. So there are plenty of things to do after all. Maybe I'll buy some wine and try writing something. I've been having this need to write for days now, but haven't really gotten myself to actually write anything.
I want to spring to come sooner. I usually like the winter and wish for it to linger, but this year I'm pretty much craving for the snow to melt and the world to start blooming. Every day it seems that there is a little bit more light than the day before. I kind of hate the stage when there is still so much snow, yet it is so warm that it will turn into wet slush. And the trees and bushes won't start getting green until late April, so there's still long way to go. I still remember what a shock it was when we visited Ireland couple of years ago; we left the cold, gray Finland and arrived to the warmth and greenness. It was so warm one didn't need a jacket, the sun was actually shining most of the time and there were flowers and trees and green everywhere. I wish I could go to Ireland again...
Oh, and by the way: Abney Park's Letters Between A Little Boy And Himself As An Adult is larger than life.