My body is very communicative with me. It tells me when I've been pushing too hard. It tells me when it's time to slow down.
It does things like wake me up in the middle of the night, after falling asleep giggling madly with Annik, laughing about PANTS for a good half hour, it wakes me up and says "I think it's time for a sore throat to remind you that you've been abusing me."
In the morning, I opened my eyes at the sound of the door closing, Annik off to work and by the time I'm back from Limoges she'll be on a plane to Canada, all her stuff with her.
One down.
My cold is not enjoyable.
It makes coffee sour and Actimel(tm) bacteria-reinforced yogurt drink even sourer.
Two delivery men stopped by this morning to interrupt my shower. The first was with the gift of a t-shirt with "I read your e-mail" emblazoned on it in tiny font, and a cryptic unsigned love-note.
Thank you whoever you were, the t-shirt fits beautifully and its toughness along with your tenderness make my nose run slightly more slowly.
The second delivery guy had a registered letter from my landlord telling me that my lease is up on September 30th, and that they're selling the place and I'll have to move.
I was just getting used to the free time that I had to decide where I want to be next year.
Now I have two months or so, including the fact that it takes two months to find an appartment in this city.
Granted, I have more connections now than I did a year ago, but...
Then again, Alex is looking for a roommate. Hrmm.
The pressure is omnipresent. It has been since I decided to live hard, and it will be until I give up.
Which I won't.
In the meantime, e-mail sits in my inbox and waits for me.
One from a coworker that I discussed revolutionary opensource methods for solving a certain ridiculous remote-serial connection problem on the new project.
My report analyzing the four solutions, the first which is unacceptable to the bank, the second which is unnacceptable to me, the third which is unnacceptable to the provider, and the fourth which right now is technically impossible, but getting more possible the more I discuss it with curious madmen.
In the meantime, I have time to re-read his e-mail, make a few notes on my report, tell him that I'll respond to his lunch date on Monday to discuss this further when I'm back in town, and heave my backpack onto my shoulders for the train ride to Limoges.
This weekend I was supposed to run off to Yoga with my cousine, but time is close and suffocating.
On verra.
First, I have to take out my garbage.