another late night

I should be ashamed. My eyebags are so black I look like an upside down goth. But this time I have an excuse for my late bednesses: I am in pain. My ears are both infected; they're burning, throbbing, stabbing, weeping and generally shooting for an asbo. Which, I recently learnt, is not a games company.
In happier news, my life was dramatically improved yesterday after purchasing some new washing up liquid. Sad, you may call me, but wait! It was co-op mint scented blue washing up liquid. Yes, eat your earlier words, O scorners. Now when I wash up I can pretend my dishes are lost continents, submerged in a tropical blue ocean. A minty ocean. With foamy clouds roaming it's surface. Who's the saddo now, eh?
Today has been a bit weird. Gerwyn phoned Seattle to shout at an answering machine, Scamp did a bright green poo, I wrote on Dara O'Briain's hand, and Ed ripped his phone out of the wall because it rang. I'm starting to wonder exactly what the definition of normal is. Maybe it's relative. Or in my case, academic.
I'm tired.
I should sleep now.
And I will do if my ears decide to stop BURNING.
Docs tomorrow, fingers crossed, for some good old antibiotics. By this time next week every bodily secretion will smell of penicillin. Rawr. Down boys.

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