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[personal profile] desperance
It is noontide, and I ought to be working; and so far today I have shopped and cooked and read and planned dinner and forgotten to take stuff out of the freezer (whoops! *rushes off* *rushes back*) and collected veggies (ooh - brussels! and savoy cabbage and turnip and spuds and carrots and leeks and onions - I foresee something warm and wintery and ineluctably English...) and not even opened the novel-file.

Mostly, I do not want to. I do not love this book at all, except in moments; I think it's dull, and displays all my worst characteristics.

Also, I hurt. I was okay in America, more or less; I was okay in the Lit & Phil, when I was just reading and scribbling. Sitting at the computer here, my shoulder is just seizing up almost instantly. I am taking regular breaks and swapping ibuprofen and co-codamol, and they get me through the day, but ouchie!

Seeing the doctor next week, who I think will send me to physio this time, which will hopefully be a good thing. But. Ouchie in the meantime. I do not like this, Gunga Din.
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desperance

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