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I went to the hospital yesterday.  I waited for 30 minutes.  I saw one of my students (who loves Shakespeare) in the waiting room.  The doctor had a very friendly face and kindly let me waffle on in Japanese before speaking to me in English.  My lungs are okay, he said.  I just have a cough.  And then he gave me loads of drugs.  I have to take three pills three times a day, and I also have some headache/fever drugs for next time I get sick (hopefully never again) and some throat gargle lark.  The best bit though is that one of these drugs makes me really woozy and sleepy.  I took them yesterday at lunch and about 45 minutes later was curled up in my comfy chair, half-consciously muttering to myself.  This is also what's happening at the moment. I want to get up and do things, but I also want to curl up and go to sleep. It seems I can't type properly as I keep having to go back and correct myself more than usual.  The narrative stream in my head as turned into an interestingly violent river, mostly directed at one of my  students.  Maybe I should take some just before class tonight, so that 15 minute before the end, when I tell them that (thanks to all the various gods who are still working in my favour) they're getting a new teacher in two weeks, I can also tell that silly little bitch exactly what I think of her.  I probably won't though, as I need a job.

I'm currently of the opinion that prescription drugs are far more fun than the illegal kind.  This may chanhe after I fall down the concrete stairs outside my apartment. 

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blacklilly

April 2011

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