the great-good-not-so-good day
I am HOME. Like... Didn't know I can miss home so much. I stink like alcohol and the hospital is in my pores. But... do I look bothered? I. AM. HOME. What a great day.
My computer is sitting pretty on the table and me typing on it. I arrived home just in time to greet the courier with my computer. But they have to change the harddrive. So... good day. But not that great.
I have a mild cold, a scratchy throat, and sneezes. Not so good day, in the health front. Every sneeze and cough jars my ribs, taped as they are. Almost made me want to crawl back to the ward and get them to pump me with painkillers. I am a softie. I make no excuses that my pain barrier is absolutely nil.
The other thing, I learnt that my neigbour is away on holiday. Good for her, I thought, 'cause she really need a holiday working the way she did. Good for her, I said. Until I learnt that she went to New Orleans for holiday. Fugging hell. I hope she is all right. Her daughter is in my living-room now, wringing her hands, and I can't even fugging hug her.
My computer is sitting pretty on the table and me typing on it. I arrived home just in time to greet the courier with my computer. But they have to change the harddrive. So... good day. But not that great.
I have a mild cold, a scratchy throat, and sneezes. Not so good day, in the health front. Every sneeze and cough jars my ribs, taped as they are. Almost made me want to crawl back to the ward and get them to pump me with painkillers. I am a softie. I make no excuses that my pain barrier is absolutely nil.
The other thing, I learnt that my neigbour is away on holiday. Good for her, I thought, 'cause she really need a holiday working the way she did. Good for her, I said. Until I learnt that she went to New Orleans for holiday. Fugging hell. I hope she is all right. Her daughter is in my living-room now, wringing her hands, and I can't even fugging hug her.