Yes, okay, the plane flu x3 and jetlag is making me grumpy (and I'm supposed to be at work but I've still got one more lung to cough up yet) but what a shithole. Plants are dead, fridge is ilthy, no rubbish bins have been emptied, it took me two days just to clear the couch/sofa and the stove shows signs of a fire.
Haven't even looked at LJ yet, I'm saving that up, at my peril, for when I'm not quite so cross. Have just cleaned out two inboxes and that took me the other two days. Oy. (cough, hack, wheeze, sneeze, sniffle, whine, whimper).
Time for another cup of tea and a nap, methinks.
Oh, yeah, was going to do some scanning but that can wait. There isn't much anyways - apparently buying the paper everyday was much more of a technical skill than I previously gave myself credit for. And a blackout effed up my pvr settings. Sigh.
Never mind. They still had tickets left for Ricky et al, because I've been fretting and fretting and fretting some more since I saw them go on sale last week (didn't really want to buy anything in a netcafe). Oh, and I walked in the door in time for the opening creds of Life on mars (nowhere to sit, but that's another gripe for later). Never gonna have a weekend bookended by The Simm like that again.
Oh yeah, got the spurtle through customs ok but they took the soap I stole off the Orient Express (grumble, whine, grizzle, lament).
More later when I'm not a festering pustule of mucous in sweaty pjs.
IN-FORM TROUGHTON TAKES CENTRE STAGE
Masterful Coens cut to the chase