It's that time of the term again in that last week when you're chomping at the bit in anticipation of a holiday, regardless of whether or not you spend it relaxing or doing more work every day then you have been for the last eleven weeks.
I spent most of my afternoon curled up in bed against the draft and the harsh winter sun, trying to sleep out the woolly-headedness of my flu. Yes, it's also that time of the term when the cummulated beatings of the last ten weeks leave you so tired and yearning to be on holiday that your immune system is completely useless.
I actually have plenty of work to do. The end of the Italian exam seemed to make me switch off, which means I have not picked up a pen since 1.00pm, Tuesday, even though I have a feeling I was already in the motions of switching off long before this week. Either way, I am not doing anything at the moment and no one actually wants to talk to me. Given that I'm not good at waiting, I might consider doing some work, at which point when everyone will want to talk to me. It's twisted like that.
I have to go chocolate shopping. I hate going chocolate shopping because I never know how much to buy. With my family, you can't buy too much otherwise you deprive them of the part where they're all looking at the last piece and deciding on who gets it (at which point my brother swipes it to the wails of my sister and with a complete disregard for anyone else). It's tricky business. Too much and it's left untouched. I'm sure there's an economic model for this.
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