I brought in five mandarins today and ate three of them in class, peeling them carefully in my lap and trying not to spray citrus juice all over my notes. Nothing can cut through the thick pad of taste on top of my tongue, the taste that lets me know I really have been sick for the past few days.

I can't tell if my throat is raw from the cloud of salt in the air, the paint fumes in my hallway, or the battle my immune system has raged against the infection. I can't stop dancing to Goldfinger in my office when no one is looking. There's a pile of batteries I have yet to sort out, and a growing list of broken equipment piling up on my desk, and piles of dirt scattered throughout my house from when I have swept but not vacuumed, and I couldn't give a damn because the sun is sometimes out and the air is sometimes cold.

I drink hot chocolate whenever I want.

05 March 2014 20:10

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