My lungs are staging a mutiny. I fear that I am yet again going to be taking home a chest infection as my main souvenir from London. We clearly have an abusive relationship.
I've finally made my peace with going home - not much to be done about it after all, everything has been settled now. I can only resign myself to my fate. Had my last day on Friday followed by leaving drinks and some overenthusiastic karaoke. We were all out again last night as well - completely mental.
Things I am looking forward to:
> Seeing my dog again
> Getting a huge hug from the parentals
> Beach!
> Going to the hairdresser for the first time in basically a year
And so on and so forth. There are some definite pros to this going home business. I just have so much shit to sort out though, sort of makes me want to curl into a ball and cry. Not only for finalising things over here but also for getting organised back home - for example, how to get to work? Gah.
In other news, love this song...
He's already on the outskirts
I'm still pulling at his sweatshirt
He says, fate is not a factor
I'm in love with every actor
Music: Want it back - Amanda Palmer
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