There used to be an advert for a credit card about balance in the universe. It claimed that every time something intelligent happened something stupid happened somewhere else to even it out. So next time you bemoan reading something stupid in the paper...or y'know, having to see the Daily Express, remember that they are inadvertantly doing the world some good by keeping up one end of the cosmic balance. I'm sure Nobel winners the world over are grateful to likes of Richard Littlejohn.
Anyway, I think the same law might apply to me being a bit ill. Most people have illnesses that last 2-3 days. I'm now on day 6. Count it. 6. I had to stop typing to count that out on my fingers. Which shows a) that's a long illness; b) I am poor at counting. Although at some point in a lecture yesterday I did start to count the numbers since I've had an alcoholic beverage. At the time of writing we're up to 156. I think for the first time in about 5 years my liver is getting suspiscious. Perhaps it will soon get Stockholm Syndrome - although I don't know how that would manifest itself. Maybe I'd...fuck it, continue to not have jaundice? I am thinking up a semantic field of metaphors to better describe my temporary alcoholic abstinence as a hostage situation.
This sort of boredom is very stressful. Not in any seriously affecting way. More in the sort of way I am ensured budgerigars without enough perches to hop on and pieces of cuttlefish to gnaw at get stressed. If I had any artistic talent this would've given me a really neat idea for a painting: a budgerigar sipping a glass of creme de menthe.
Anyway, I should probably get out of bed and start the day properly. The weather report said we can expect a tropical high of 9 degrees here in South Yorkshire, which is pretty remarkable considering I normally can't feel my toes.
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