The weather kills me. Something with atmospheric pressure; it sends my blood pressure down yippieh, and I feel like a trash can. Brain is mush, joints and head hurt and I’m doddering along like a very old man. The light changed, its different from last evenings, how I wish that a nice thunder-storm would come along and sweep it all away.
At least half of the report is written, the other half is drafted. I am not able to write something this evening, or do a decent blogpost. I have a small pile of papers on my desk where I collect ideas and materials to blog about; mostly things that need further research, what I find is the best part about writing: Searching, digging things up, connecting*. Not tonight, darlings.
I think I’ll do the round through the news – oh dear, why take the trouble with this? The usual program of war, cruelty and perversion, yay! -, play some rounds of a silly online game called QBZs, if I have my sieben Zwetschgen beisammen, it makes as much sense as anything else this evening; then go to bed and hopefully find sleep. My deepest compassion and sympathy for all the insomniacs who read this, I have no idea how you can go along with it. Since I am back from the bookmines I sleep eight or nine hours a night – and I need them. Like coffee in the morning. Take care, see you later.
* That’s why my dissertation never comes to an end.