My head hurts...
Feb. 16th, 2011 09:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperance...which is most unfair, actually, because as I trudged up the stairs to bath and bed last night it struck me that I hadn't had a drink all day, and how rare is that?
As it happens, I am something of a hangover-denier in any case. I don't believe in 'em, will have no truck with the nasty things; so waking up with a headache on the back of no alcohol is just ... unreasonable.
Obviously, I blame work. I almost broke my tongue with talking yesterday: two solid hours in the evening, after tutorials in the afternoon. I don't normally utter so much in a month. Still, one more tutorial and that'll be it pre-California; and there'll be something close to two hundred quid in my bank when I come back. It ain't much, but it'll pay the mortgage.
And now I must dash to the Lit & Phil to be photographed. Again. Bright flashes in the eyes. That'll help the headache, oh yes. And set me up lovely for a day of writing.
In other news, I reject my cafetiere. I spurn it. There's something weird in the design, where it spurts from the spout when I depress the plunger however careful I am. I get coffee in my pepper and grounds in my cup, and I'm fed up with it.
Also, I don't know whether to blame the pseudo-hangover demanding pseudo-treatment, or the presence of the world's best marmalade, but I ate a slice of toast this morning. Breakfast. What's that about?
*feels weird*
*goes*
As it happens, I am something of a hangover-denier in any case. I don't believe in 'em, will have no truck with the nasty things; so waking up with a headache on the back of no alcohol is just ... unreasonable.
Obviously, I blame work. I almost broke my tongue with talking yesterday: two solid hours in the evening, after tutorials in the afternoon. I don't normally utter so much in a month. Still, one more tutorial and that'll be it pre-California; and there'll be something close to two hundred quid in my bank when I come back. It ain't much, but it'll pay the mortgage.
And now I must dash to the Lit & Phil to be photographed. Again. Bright flashes in the eyes. That'll help the headache, oh yes. And set me up lovely for a day of writing.
In other news, I reject my cafetiere. I spurn it. There's something weird in the design, where it spurts from the spout when I depress the plunger however careful I am. I get coffee in my pepper and grounds in my cup, and I'm fed up with it.
Also, I don't know whether to blame the pseudo-hangover demanding pseudo-treatment, or the presence of the world's best marmalade, but I ate a slice of toast this morning. Breakfast. What's that about?
*feels weird*
*goes*