Over the weekend I was overcome by something that appeared, to me, similar to a stomach flu. Whatever it was, it laid me out bad after an unpleasant night of exploding; my stomach wanted the sweet release of oblivion before any water or other substances. Within 24 hours I could drink 7up (the carbonated elixir of my youth), and by the time I had to go back to work, I was okay. Now, somehow, the torch has passed to
eowyn797's insides, and it is lingering much, much longer. The human body puzzles and frustrates me sometimes.
We're making our final payments towards our fabulous (it's fabulous!) Contiki holiday in September. This is still the biggest financial project I've tackled in, oh,
ever. The car was nothing; it was practically
handed to me when I got a big chunk of family money about five years ago. This is a thing I've invested significant portions of my own earned paychecks into over the course of the last five or six months, and somehow that makes it feel more ... well, earned, and deserved, and
owned.
All things considered, I'm doing all right. It's all good, all the time. Though I really do need some more explosions in my television shows right now, and they don't make enough new 24 every day to fill my quota.